


Of Two Negligible Souls (And One Bestial Natblida)

by Of the League (Serpyre)



Series: Rise [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Clarke Griffin/Lexa, F/F, Family, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Has Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Lexa Lives, Madi is Basically Clexa's Adopted Child, Parents Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Permanent Injury, Post-Apocalypse, Sequel, Surrogate family, mentions of trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-06-13 12:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 61
Words: 106,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15365007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serpyre/pseuds/Of%20the%20League
Summary: Lexa never really thought she would see another human being other than Clarke after the apocalypse. Not that she was complaining. By all means, she and Clarke were the last people standing on the face of Earth, save for those floating in the sky and thriving underground.But there was a child. A Natblida child, gawking at her like she couldn't believe she was the last true Commander.Or, Lexa and Clarke both survive Praimfaya, and meet a small but ferocious Natblida in Shallow Valley.





	1. ONE: Last On Earth

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at @fireserpyre. My ask box's always open, and you can talk to me about anything - from this fic to other shows and everything in-between!

_Lexa was dying. She had been, ever since Clarke entered her tent and negotiated for peace for her people. Was, when she ruled with a heart over her head, ignored Skaikru’s misdeeds and retracted punishment from those deserving. Her reign fell apart, when she tried to initiate Skaikru into the Coalition, a weakness so glaring the Clans knew she couldn’t forget, and now—_

__''_ Clarke— _''_ she gasps, and even with this her stomach spills blood—warm, thick, blackness that seeps through her fingers like a gulping wave that consumed all—painted her ebbing life, obscuring her vision, staining the white-furred bed. _''_ Clarke— _''_ she chokes out once again, because she does not want to die, not yet, not right now _

_And euphoria blurs her mind. Runs through her veins; seeps through the recesses of her brain; and she sees them. Visions, at first. Images of her life; snippets that she could see, but out of her reach once she reached for them, long enough so she understood what they beheld._  

 _Her mother, crying as Lexa were ripped away from her embrace, the Flamekeepers bringing Lexa to her destiny, she crying in kind, but tears, tears of joy, tears for her future had stained her cheeks that day. Loss, honour, brought by a day she would never forget for her life. Her, fighting in the Conclave, fighting for her life, fighting for her people all at once. For her birthright, for her people’s pride, mixed with the insatiable need to_ **_win_** _, to save herself, to_ **_survive_** _. Her, meeting Costia, an emotion she didn’t know spurring her heart. Love, vulnerability, but not a weakness—for she had coined it so, for far too long, till Costia herself pushed her away for believing so. Her, living, a life she’d never wanted but had needed for her people. And now, she was blessed with rest, a rest she didn’t know she needed until the burden of the world was pushed from her shoulders, when she lay dying, dying, dead in a bed._  

_And she was no longer calling for Clarke, but for herself._

_''My fight is over,'' and Lexa breathes in a small smile, because euphoria runs her mind and the exhaustion, the sheer_ **_exhaustion_ ** _is so, so taxing_ ** _._ ** _But she welcomes it. Happily. For her fight was over; her duty to her people paid in her blood; and she no longer had to fight._

_She no longer had to fight. Not anymore. And as far as Commanders went, this was quite the painless way to go._

_(At least, she thinks, and almost smiles again, there are my people waiting for me in the Afterlife. And maybe; if she wasn’t so damn tired; maybe the next life. Maybe she’ll get to meet Costia, and Clarke, and fall in love all over again.)_  

 _She was so tired. So exhausted. Exhausted from helping her people; exhausted from Azgeda’s war; exhausted from her life and conflict and_ **_this life_** _, this life as a Commander, and for a Heda, she was so, so tired._

_And then…_

_And then…_  

 _ _''_ Lexa, can you hear me? _''_ A voice, an angel’s voice, drew her out of her haze. Euphoria surged through her cells; and as she saw nothing but light, as though it was over, as though she was done, then pain, sheer unadulterated _ **_pain_ ** _dragged her from her haven to a bitter hell like a demon’s laugh._  

 _And in that moment she saw nothing but painpainpain, pain that destroyed her euphoria and pain that echoed amid her wilted screams. The angel’s voice a demons; her screams for the loss of salvation. _''_ Lexa, stay with me, _**_please_** _._ _I need you to hang on. Need you to hang on long enough to save you. Please. _''__

_Her mind stuffed with cotton; the euphoria receding away till she saw orange and frightened faces and all that voiced by a hoarse scream; she tried to shut herself out from this twisted reality, but nonono she was still alive and nonono there was no going back. _''_ I’m going to perform emergency surgery, but I need you to stay still so I can minimalize the damage. Lexa, I’m so, so sorry. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. _''__

_Just let me die, her mind pleads as they turn her on her back and start to cut open her skin._

_You’re gonna be okay, is what laughs back instead._

_Just let me die, the only words in a mind of jarring white, when every second of pain feels like an eternity of time._

_You need to survive. You have to, is what the angel repeats, and she wonders if she can rip off the senseless masquerade._

_Just let me die, a mantra she repeats as she grits her teeth and screams into the fur stained with her blood._

_We’re not done with you, the red demons smirk, a bitter grin on their warped faces._  

 

_Just let me die…_

 

 _Death is not the end._  

...

 

Lexa woke with a start. 

Checked her surroundings. Shallow Valley. In her and Clarke’s abode. Nothing to fear; at least, not yet. Checked her legs. Still unmoving, still unresponsive, still _burning_ ; but what did she expect? With a sigh, she cast a glance to Clarke, who was still sleeping soundly beside her. It had been a hard night; they had practically emptied their supplies from the lab, which meant she had to hunt enough food to keep them through the night. There was barely any food to scavenge, save for a few berries which they had for dinner. Never enough to fill their stomaches, but they still shared, with Clarke insisting on giving more to her.

Clarke deserved the sleep, no doubt. Without a word, taking her legs in one quick movement, Lexa flung her legs over the bedside and steadily moved into her wheelchair, ignoring the cramps from the previous night that flared in protest.

Suddenly, she heard a yawn come from beside her.''Awake?'' Clarke said, still yawning as she rubbed her eyes.

''Did I wake you?'' Lexa said quietly.''I did not mean to.''

Clarke, stretching herself while stifling another yawn, replied: ''Hey, it doesn’t matter. Gotta wake up sometime anyway.'' Then, noticing Lexa already in her wheelchair, she noted: ''Lexa, you alright?''

Lexa shut her eyes, and tried to rid her nightmare from her mind. The first ten minutes after waking up is when people remember their dreams most clearly. She just had to ignore it and let her mind pass.

One part of her wanted to bite back at Clarke, to tell her that it was none of her concern and that they should just get on with the day, but instead she bit her lip and said: ''… yes, Clarke. I’m fine. Just a bad dream.''

Clarke nodded, and thankfully, she didn’t ask Lexa to elaborate. Wouldn’t want to, after all—why would Clarke want to know Lexa thought she were a demon in masquerade? _It was just a dream,_ she reminded herself, but it felt all-too-real to be one.

Pushing that thought to the back of her mind, she wheeled herself out of their room. Approaching the counter, Lexa narrowed her eyes.''Didn’t we have a pack of rations here the night before?''

Clarke shrugged, getting up as well.''Must’ve misplaced it.'' Thankfully, Lexa didn’t notice the flash of confusion that passed over Clarke’s eyes, before Clarke schooled her features. There was no way a ration packet could just disappear without notice. Trying to remember what happened to the missing ration packet proved a headache, especially after just waking up— _did Clarke eat it for a snack? No way, she was careful with their food, and plus, she’s still starving—_

Clarke might have to count their rations later on again, even if it were to check for one missing package. Rubbing her eyes again, she groaned and moved towards the counter and opened the cupboard, where they placed their rations. Taking a packet, she put it on the counter, and quickly scanned over their leftover ration packets.

Lexa’s humming was cut through by Clarke’s exclamation. ''76.'' Fear passed over Clarke’s eyes. ''Lexa, we had 168 ration packets when we arrived. There should be 110 left. Someone—some _thing’s_ stealing them.''

Clarke turned back to Lexa, as if desperately seeking for an explanation that didn’t involve rabid mutant animals stealing their food. Uneasiness clouded over Lexa’s features, until she cast her eyes down back to the ration packet, troubled. ''We are not alone.''

They ate their halves in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as you might've realised by now, this is a continuation from Of Inconsequential Titles, taking about what might've happened during Praimfaya. Madi'll be making an apperance soon, I promise. :D


	2. Nothing Good Ever Happens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Madi and her Bear Traps make an appearance.

''I'm going out,'' Clarke said, packing her bag and stuffing it with only the bare essentials. Food, water, Lexa's notepad to keep track of the flora, and a cloth was all Clarke needed. It was so that if for some reason Clarke or the bag disappeared, it wouldn't be that heavy of a hit to their supplies.

 _If the rabid-mutant animals didn't get to their supplies first,_  that was.

Lexa's eyes were troubled; perhaps even more than usual, with the knowledge that someone—or something was out there, taking and living off of their supplies. ''Be safe, Clarke,'' she said, but it was almost a whisper.

In response, Clarke leaned in for a kiss, which Lexa savoured. But she broke away too fast, and then Clarke was at the door, waving with a smile twinkling in her eyes, and she was gone.

Lexa breathed in a sigh, and returned her gaze to her notebook and their plans for the future.

…

It had been fifteen minutes since Clarke was supposed to return.

It was worrying, but Lexa pushed aside the thought to focus on sketching out plans when they ran out of rations. They were preparing to cultivate a farmland, hopefully ripe in time after they finished their rations. Finding the seeds proved tough, however, as there weren't many edibles around. It wasn't impossible, however, to make the farm…

Clarke had likely gotten carried away with scavenging, maybe even found a fresh patch of berries if they were lucky. There was nothing to worry about, Lexa's mind insisted, and yet…

Carefully placing her notebook into the compartment in her wheelchair, she wheeled away from their patch of arable dirt, and approached the forests.

She had never been a fan of the forests, not after wheeling in once in sought for berries that were just out of reach, and ended up trapped in a staunch of mud. She had managed to free the chair with some help from Clarke, but she had always been wary of the forests since then, despite the overwhelming urge she felt to enter the forest and to just hunt, like she did many times ago as Heda.

It wasn't her favourite pastime, but it was one of hers.

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a fleeting shadow pass—but by the time she looked back to determine what it was, there was nothing. Though it must've been a trick of the eye, the knotted tension in her stomach lurched. Scanning through the dense forests; reaching for the knife under her armrests' compartment, she tried to find the figure in the woods.

And then, Lexa heard a scream.

…

One so faint, barely out of earshot, and its origin nearly impossible to determine. But it was a scream nonetheless, and she knew it came from the forest.

Biting her lip and gazing upon the forests once again, she contemplated her choices: 1) Find Clarke, who was in obvious danger, for if she knew anything she knew  _Wanheda_ didn't scream, or 2) Wait here to be picked off by her stalker in the woods, possibly losing Clarke as well, and have their rations feasted on by their said stalker and mutant animals.

There was certainly no way Lexa would let Option 2 happen.

Taking in a bracing breath, Lexa eyed the most viable path (for if she got stuck in the mud, it would make her bad day even worse) that led into the woods. It was a fairly solid path, one Clarke used for gatherings.

The screams were getting louder.

Sucking in another breath, Lexa wheeled into the forest, bypassing the small trees, ferns, and the wheels bumping over the twigs, which had her grit her teeth and wheel further on.  _Your pain is nothing compared to Clarke's._

The scream, once so faint, had increased in volume. Lexa knew she was nearby.

The path had winded down, splitting into two ways. Recognition—deja vu nagged at the back of her mind, but she couldn't quite place it. Steeling her nerves as she felt another bump, she tried to suppress the flinch and internally ignored the jolt.

_You're the Heda Lexa. You can do this._

The screams had died down. Lexa could hear nothing, and her heart quickened.  _What if…?_ No. She forbade herself to think that. There was no way.

She could make out a figure amid the trees, its shadow running through the trees as if trying to get away, trying to escape notice. Although her heart hammered in her ribs, she ignored the silhouette. She had to find Clarke.

Wheeling through the thick bushes and the barbed vines, grimacing at the bumps from the tired path, she broke through the sea of trees and into an open canopy, where whimpers of pain came from a blonde-haired figure, its leg snapped shut in a bear-trap.

 _''Clarke!''_  Before Lexa knew it, she had slid on the ground beside a groaning Clarke, her legs folded underneath her, furiously working at the bear-trap which had ate Clarke's leg. It was a common tool Polis's (and Shallow Valley's) hunters used to catch big-game animals, such as hinds or bears where they herded the animals into the location of the bear-traps via a chase. However, after the hunts, they usually recollected their traps to use another day.

 _What was this doing here?!_ It was impossible, unless…

_Somebody deliberately put it there._

Lexa felt sick. The sight of Clarke's snapped leg, ensnared in a bear trap, bleeding from its blunt yet vicious jaws, and her cries of pain agonized her, and made her nauseous. She knew who had put it there.

_Three survivors left to scourge the Earth, and the last turns on us?_

One click, and the trap sprung free. Clarke clutched at her leg, moaning in pain, as she gasped to make out words. Lexa hushed her, told her to save her breath and to focus on relaxing her muscles so she could take care of Clarke's wound, before making out what Clarke said:

''T—there was a Natblida.''

Her gaze turned sharply from the wound to Clarke. Surprise. Fear. Intrigue. Horror. ''What?''

''There was a Natblida,'' Clarke managed to cough out again, before breaking into a fit of coughing. Lexa tried her best to soothe her, while rummaging in Clarke's bag for something— _anything_  to prevent the bleeding. ''A child. S—she,'' was all that got out before Clarke moaned in pain.

Lexa found a cloth. She could use it for bandaging the wound. Not perfect, but it was the best she could do for now. Gesturing towards her wheelchair, Clarke slowly moved into it gingerly, stifling gasps of pain as she did.

''The Natblida did this?'' Lexa asked, almost incredulously, as she worked on setting a tourniquet for the wound. Jagged bite marks were etched into Clarke's leg, with a stream of blood gushing out. It wasn't so much that a Natblida did it, but a  _child_ did.  _Why would they…?_

Clarke nodded, before breaking out into another coughing fit. Cupping her hand, Lexa struck it against Clarke's back to help ease her.

''Yes,'' Clarke said hoarsely, gasping as Lexa began to bandage the wound. It took around fifteen minutes for Lexa to finish, and another five to secure the tourniquet. Although the blood still gushed from the wound, stained the bandage, at least it was less than what it was before.

They sat there, panting and sweating in the afternoon sun for a few minutes, before Clarke's gaze flitters back to her, almost an apology. ''I should leave.''

Lexa nods, and wiping the some of the mud and the black blood away from her hands (though it would return when she wheeled out of the godforsaken forest), she sucked in a breath as Clarke hobbled away from her wheelchair, and she gingerly transferred herself back on.

''Hold onto the handgrip,'' Lexa said, amidst Clarke's small but audible groans of pain. ''Not your full weight.'' Breathing in, reassuring herself, she said: ''You'll be alright, Clarke, I promise.''

She hoped it wasn't a false promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	3. Trials and Tribulations

''Ow,'' Clarke groans as she peels off the bandage in their abode, sitting atop a table, as Lexa removed the tourniquet. It had revealed a nasty-looking bite, with speckles of dirt, sweat and blood among it. Frowning, Lexa checked Clarke's leg—thankfully, it didn't appear broken.

Ever since they had returned from Lexa's impromptu trip into the woods (which took quite a bit of cursing, groaning, and more time than Lexa cared to admit), they had spent their time recuperating in their abode. Which mostly composed of complaining, and cursings directed towards the ''vicious, Natblida child from hell''.

Many thoughts had swirled in Lexa's mind on their journey home—from Clarke's wound to the Natblida child that apparently did  _this_  to her.  _A child won't attack unless provoked,_ she'd contemplated while on their little journey home.  _At least that was the case for Polis children. Clarke won't deliberately antagonize a child. The Natblida must've been afraid, somehow…_

Turning towards Clarke, another thought surfacing in her mind, she questioned: ''Can you tell me more about this… Natblida? Perhaps you accidentally provoked her. Do you remember anything?''

Clarke paused for a moment, before responding with a frown: ''She'd called me a Fleimkipa. I tried to convince her I was not, but she led me into the bear trap.''

Her mind had stopped the moment Clarke uttered the words  _''Fleimkipa''. It thought Clarke was a Fleimkipa._

Lexa almost wanted to bury her head in her hands.  _Of course it was because of Fleimkipas._ When was it not? Natblida children, especially illegitimates, had feared the Fleimkipas for their whole lives, for the Fleimkipas hunted Natblida children down in case of a Heda's death, before donning them in war armour, and practically sending them off for ceremonial death all without a sound, rinse and repeat. Though it was a necessary process, it wasn't exactly a happy one, either. And especially with the recent Conclave to establish a new Heda in replace of Lexa, the danger of a Fleimkipa scout was even more immediate.

Or at least, it  _had_  could a nuclear apocalypse raze the Earth and yet a Natblida could still be afraid of the dangers of nonexistent Fleimkipa scouts?

''… do I really look that much like Titus?'' Clarke asked aloud, almost airily. However, Lexa could tell it was asked in such a manner to keep hers and Clarke's mind away from the pain—half of it said in distress, but half of it felt genuine.

''No,'' Lexa snorted. ''For starters, you would've never shot me.''

''Hmm.'' Clarke's hand wandered over to her own bloodied leg, and when she tried to dab a wet towel on the wound to clean it, hissed back in pain.

''Here. Let me help.'' Lexa took the towel from Clarke's hands, and began to carefully clean the wound, while Clarke's fist gripped tightly and relaxed in a measure of pain on the table.

''Your leg isn't broken,'' Lexa commented, as she placed the towel on the counter, while Clarke grimaced as she ran a finger across her wound. ''But we should wash it out to prevent infections.'' Placing both of her hands on the wheels, she said: ''I'll be back with water. Stay here.''

Wheeling away from their abode, she approached the well positioned at the centre of the Shallow Valley village, which was just a small stretch from their abode. Untying the knot, she lowered the roll of rope and the bucket attached into the well. The water wasn't contaminated—for that Praimfaya had missed the stretch of Shallow Valley, and thus included the rivers and the groundwater as well. After hearing the bucket fall to the bottom with a  _thunk_ , holding the rope firmly in her hand, she pulled the bucket with the water back up.

After the bucket was fairly visible, she tied a triple clove hitch at the pole, and reached out for the rope in the well. Thankfully, it wasn't too far away, and so unknotting the bucket from the rope, she placed the teeming bucket of water in her lap. She would come back later to reattach it.

Carefully manoeuvring herself so that the bucket of water didn't spill, her eye caught a figure running amid the village houses. On alert, her eyes tracked the figure that moved from house to house in a blur… until it stopped, and stepped out into the square.

She saw a child, wild-eyed and frightened, looking at Lexa with a mix of expressions she couldn't comprehend. At first, Lexa's heart raced; but then stilled, for though this Natblida might've severely injured Clarke, the Natblida couldn't do anything to her—at least, not now.

They were at a pass, Lexa and the Natblida, staring at teach other levelly, until the Natblida took off into the woods. Lexa barely had the time to call out for her before she was out of sight, the only proof of the Natblida's existence a rustle.

Shaking her head, taking a wheel in her hand, she took the bucket back to Clarke.


	4. Discussions of Acquisition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein they argue about a certain Natblida child from hell.

After placing the bucket of water near the table and tending to an unusually-mute Clarke. Lexa thought about their plans for the night. It was nearing dusk, which meant it should be when they began to light their candles. As she began to wrap up, rinsing the towel of blood, she began to move for the candles. However, nothing prepared her for Clarke's words.

''We should invite her in,'' was the first thing Clarke said, after forty minutes of silence.

Lexa's head whipped up from the drawer of candles to stare at Clarke, who was trying to leave her seat on the table. ''Excuse me?''

''We should invite  _her in,_ Lexa.'' Clarke repeated, more firmly this time, as she moved herself downwards from the table with her hands. At this, Lexa's eyes widened, and she quickly wheeled towards Clarke, abandoning her candles on the drawer.

 _''Stop, Clarke._ You're hurting yourself. _''_

''I feel fine,'' Clarke said, before a small gasp escaped her when she shifted some of her weight onto her leg.

Lexa stared at Clarke incredulously, to which Clarke responded with a glare which ultimately spluttered and died under Lexa's stare. With the tactic of intimidation out of the window, Clarke admitted: ''Okay, I'm  _not_ fine. And that's the point I'm trying to make.  _We both aren't fine, Lexa._ You're paralysed because of an incomplete spinal injury. I'm limping because my leg got stuck in a bear trap.''

''You'll heal, Clarke.'' Lexa interrupted, her voice tight, constrict. Gripping her hands in frustration, almost tersely at the dangerous waters Clarke was about to approach.

''But—'' Clarke said, bumbling through her words. ''—But what if it's not my leg next time? What if it's my arm? Or my head?''

 _''We'll figure it out.''_ Lexa hissed. Gripping her fists tighter still. This was not a subject she wanted to approach today.

She had thought of the subject many times before, especially when they traversed from Becca's lab, and to Shallow Valley, a desert stretching seven days spanning in between them. Nothing she liked came out of the conversation with herself.

The desert made her feel helpless. That was a fact she knew, but she did not want to deal with the implications behind it then. It was only thanks to Clarke that she managed to get through it, and it was especially then when the feeling of being reliant on someone magnified, and reminded her why she disliked it even more. There was a reason why Commanders had to be capable and learned from birth to trust no-one, for if a Commander relied on somebody but themselves… what would happen when the person they relied on was gone?

Even now she was relying on Clarke for food, for supplies, for scavenging. If Clarke died, then… it was safe to say Lexa would perish as well, albeit with some fight, but the eventual end was still obvious.

_Unless…_

''We're not doing this, Clarke,'' Lexa said, a hint of anger befit of a Commander in her voice. Wheeling back towards the drawer, and furiously striking a match to light a candle, she said: ''We're done here.''

''We need her, Lexa.'' Clarke said from behind her, her voice impossibly soft—till the point where Lexa wondered if Clarke's words were meant to be heard by her, or not. ''We—''

'' _We_  don't,'' Lexa growled, cutting Clarke off. ''I can hunt. We don't need that Natblida helping us. We don't even know who she  _is_ , Clarke.  _By the Spirits_ , she broke your leg mere hours ago!''

''The bow's  _lost,_ Lexa,'' Clarke said in frustration. ''Unless my leg heals anytime soon, we  _are not going to survive._

Irritation arose within her. ''Split the rations, then.''

Clarke sighed. ''We're  _already_ splitting the rations. Look, we're not gonna do this without her. I'm not going hunting anytime soon, and neither will you be. We might be able to survive on rations this time, but what about the next? And the one after that?'' Clarke's voice was stricken. ''We're gonna run out of rations one way or another. Unless we figure out some long-term solution, a backup plan, we're gonna die when the next disaster strikes.''

'' _Stop_ , Clarke.'' Lexa said, almost too quickly.

Clarke blinked. ''… what?''

''You act like a pragmatist, but I know you well enough that you are not, Clarke.'' she began. Clarke's face almost seemed to freeze over. ''Your points are… pragmatic, well-founded, but you are an idealist at heart. You can try to justify it all you want, but tell me  _your_  true reason as for why you want  _her_  here.''

At Lexa's persistent stare, Clarke finally sighed. ''When I saw her—she was scared, Lexa. Afraid I was a Fleimkipa. When emotions run our head, we don't exactly make the best choices—ruling with impulse over rationale.''

Lexa's stare was still there. ''And?''

Clarke sighed. ''She's just a child, Lexa. A scared one. Almost like I was, once, when I acted with a heart rather than a head.'' Then, she gave a small chuckle. ''And though she might be the Natblida from hell, we should give her a choice. To either stay with us or go.''

And then, quieter, for Lexa's stare was still prominent— ''I don't think she has shelter, and with her stealing our rations, she's probably scarce on food, too. If we leave her out there any longer, she might die. And I  _can't_  let that happen.''

 _Seemed to be doing just fine on her bear-traps and rations_ , but she bit back the scathing remark.

Clarke almost seemed to read her mind, because she sighed once more. Bit back a rueful smile. ''You're acting like  _you're_  the one whose' gotten their leg broken, not me.'' And at Lexa's uncompromising stare, a layer of question mixed with a healthy dose of  _''really?''_ added to it, Clarke realised that the smile was getting harder to bite back.

''We should give her a second chance. Also, Lexa… the staring's getting kinda creepy.''

Taking a breath, eyes flittering from Clarke's face to the floor, the candle's fire flickering calmly in her hand, hoping she wouldn't regret this, Lexa said: ''… fine. But you have to rest, Clarke. Promise?''

A tiny, rueful smile spread across Clarke's face. ''Promise.''

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaay, updates! :D
> 
> Thank you so much for all of your comments, especially mistyheartrbs for your support! I seriously appreciate all of the kudos—I'm so glad that you like reading about this AU!


	5. Of Commanders and Natblidas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the Natblida unknowingly meets a Commander.

Madi didn't notice the woman on the bed until she came in.

She lay horizontally on the bed, her eyes focused on the ceiling, and only flittering over to her once the door shut. Madi nearly froze when their gazes met; but the woman merely beckoned for her to come forward with a small nod.

 _Oh crap oh crap oh crap_ ran through her mind like a radio on repeat.  _There wasn't supposed to be anyone here! At five she leaves to take care of their plants, and Clarke would be out hunting by then._

The woman lifted her head and motioned to Madi once again.  _She was actually serious about it. Oh Spirits._

Madi had a few options: one, to get out of there as fast as her legs would carry her. Problem: they knew that she was stealing their food by now, and that would mean new hiding spots and fortified defenses, which, granted, Madi was not ready for. Or two, to actually do as the woman said and to approach her. It was absurd, but the longer she thought about it, the longer she felt better about it.

If they knew that Madi was stealing their food, and wasn't apparently mad about it, then maybe she had a chance. Although her head was screaming at her:  _''no!'',_  Madi did as the woman motioned, though she  _did_  find it weird that the woman didn't just tell her to get out or maybe just kill her now—after all, this was the woman's living space, and Madi  _was_ the one intruding, ready to steal their rations and generally making their lives a pain in the ass if you would.

''What's your name?'' The woman asked; and though it was a question, the hint of authority in her voice almost made her flinch—and Madi's subconscious was telling her to maybe straighten up and bow, even though this woman was not a village head and  _definitely_  not a Commander.

And even if the Commander of the 12 Clans was standing before her, asking her for her name, Madi wouldn't give it, either. For starters, Madi's name was  _private._ It was her own. Her family once used Madi's name a long time, sang songs about it—her sister used to tease her about it, as her brother grinned along, while her Mother and Father smiled at her indignance—but that was it.

Only family could use her name, and this woman was certainly  _not_ family.

Puffing up her chest, she glared at the woman. Madi would've expected the woman to look either shocked, or offended, but instead she gave a small, forlorn sigh and refocused her eyes on her legs.

Slightly puzzled, Madi's gaze followed the woman's. She recalled the time where this woman saved the Fleimkipa that called herself Clarke, using a chair with wheels. And later, when she took a bucket of water from the well, again with the chair with wheels. Although nothing seemed wrong with this woman on the surface level, she was likely injured somehow, if the wheelchair wasn't any testament to that.

Madi almost opened her mouth to speak, to ask the woman about her legs, but she managed to shove it back in.  _Focus, Madi,_ she berated.  _You're supposed to be on alert. You're here to hear what the woman has to say, and after that, you're getting the heck out of there and never coming back. Okay?_

But she didn't listen to her mind's warnings. It was clear this woman wasn't dangerous—or at least didn't seem to be. After all, by the looks of it, she was likely injured and with Clarke keeping her here and with the woman trying to help Clarke out with the bear trap Madi, she would probably be a friend of Clarke's or some sort.

 _A friend of a Fleimkipa._ The words tasted weird on her mouth. It just didn't roll off her tongue. Who had ever heard of Fleimkipa friends?

Doubts nagged at the back of Madi's mind. They had to be Fleimkipas, right…? But Clarke's accent sounded weird, for a Fleimkipa, though. And this woman in front of her spoke in perfect Trigedasleng, but was certainly in no shape to be a Fleimkipa, let alone a scout at that. So, who were they?

_Not Fleimkipas, for starters._

Madi could feel her own cheeks redden, almost burning in embarrassment. She made a mistake. They weren't Fleimkipas trying to capture her, but Natblida survivors like her. And she'd probably antagonized at least one of them, or maybe even both, by the looks of it.

_By the Heda's name, please let them not realise I made a mistake…_

All this led Madi to completely forget about the woman in front of her, who looked slightly amused at Madi's expression. At this, Madi's face began to burn not in shame, but in anger.

_What's so funny?! I broke your friend's leg! It was INTENTIONAL. I thought you were Fleimkipas! But you aren't, and I'm wrong and mistaken… oh Spirits, Heda, please save me from this embarrassment…_

Her cheeks burning in embarrassment, Madi turned to leave the abode with some shred of dignity left… until the woman on the bed yelled out:  _''Wait!''_

Madi stopped. Looked back.

''Stay,  _goufa._ '' Again with the Commander-esque voice. How did this woman learn the briskness? ''Would you not owe it to us, for injuring Clarke's leg?''

Madi could definitely just jump and run. But the visual of Clarke limping in pain, someone who was definitely  _not_ a Fleimkipa and (probably) meant no harm, was enough for her to guiltily turn back and walk back to the woman's side.

''My name is Lexa,'' the woman said, once Madi returned and had been situated near the far end of the room. (She didn't exactly trust the woman. Even if she did have the Commander's voice).

 _Lexa._ Madi didn't know where she heard of the name; and she tried the words on her lips. It felt a bit like a case of deja-vu; the name felt familiar on her tongue, and she knew she heard it form somewhere before… she just couldn't place it.

''And yours?'' Commander-ness in her voice again, brisk and hard and harsh, as if expecting a response  _exactly now_  or risk the horror of decapitation just before a thousand cuts. Madi's brain did a turn. Where did  _decapitation_  come from? And a thousand cuts? And why did  _Lexa_  sound so familiar? She was sure she heard that name from somewhere, perhaps during the times when her Father and Mother conserved while they were trying to smuggle her out of Polis. But why?

 _Your name, now._ Involuntarily, the makings of Madi's name was on the tip of her tongue before she caught herself, and pushed the words back.  _No!_ her brain yelled at her.  _You can't trust this woman! She might still be a Fleimkipa, she's a total stranger, and she's definitely not family._

It was true. And so, swallowing the words back into her throat, Madi said, on an edge: ''Why do you want me here?''

Lexa's face seemed reminiscent, wistful for one moment, before quickly snapping back into reality. Her lips quirked on the ends, but her eyes were far away. ''We are all Natblida, are we not? All we want to do is to survive. There is no reason why one shall do it alone.''

Madi almost gawked at the woman. ''You're  _inviting_ me?'' And then, a glance. ''Even after I broke Clarke's leg?''

''Injured, not broke,'' Lexa said evenly. ''There is a mountain of difference. And yes. I am inviting you to join us. Do you accept?''

Madi edged away from the woman.  _Wouldn't Clarke mind?_ was on the tip of her tongue, until she realised what it implied. It was a tempting offer, no doubt. Food, shelter, survival, all for basically free while negating the damage she (accidentally) did to Clarke. Ten days ago, she would've accepted that offer in a heartbeat. But ten days ago she was still in the desert, desperate for a smidge of water and food.

''I'll… think about it,'' was all she said before she all but practically ran out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your comments! You really help drive the writing process along. :D Please do keep them coming—your support is always awesome! <3
> 
> mistyheartrbs, ktisch, rize, daxher, and guest, and all the kudoers and readers—thank you all so much! I can't express how much I appreciate it, and how much you fire the muse. Can't wait to see you in the next update!


	6. Of Forgotten Souls

''What'd she say?'' Clarke asked once she returned from her scouting, carrying a makeshift crutch with her as she lurched forward, her facial features contorted in pain.

'' _Careful, Clarke,''_ Lexa said as Clarke ambled forward, her crutch dangerously unsteady by her side, and Lexa could only watch, eyes wide when Clarke took a step too far, too large—but thankfully she was caught by the doorframe.

''What'd she say?'' Clarke repeated once again, amidst her breathing.

Lexa took in a breath, and tried not to think about the Natblida or Clarke's sudden fall. The Nightblood's face…  _no, she didn't need another reminder._ ''She had said she would  _think about it.''_

After a while, Clarke finally spoke. ''You don't like this.'' Clarke said, breathing laboured, leaning against the doorframe.

''You're right. I don't.'' Lexa said, voice hard, staring upwards at the panting Clarke. Unconsciously twisting the dirt from her wheelchair between her fingers,  _trying to rid their images from her mind,_  she said: ''Although we can offer our hospitality to this… Natblida, when does it come that this Natblida decides she wants it no more? That she could do well on 152 days' worth of rations without having to share with us?'' Then, sucking in a breath, casting her eyes away from Clarke, she said: ''When does she decide she can do better without a paraplegic and a lame?''

Despite having to catch her breath, Clarke seemed stricken. ''Lexa…'' she began, but then gave a sigh. ''It's a risk we'll have to take. But trust me, Lexa, when I say that the Nightblood isn't that kind of person.''

Lexa almost snorted. ''That  _Natblida_  slammed a bear trap on your leg. That is not the best judge of a person.''

Clarke only gave an irritated sigh, before they both lapsed into silence. During then, Clarke wished that Lexa would become less cynical, while Lexa wished Clarke would've been more reasonable.

A pause came through the two of them. ''You didn't happen to catch her name, did you?''

Lexa shook her head. ''She refused. Doesn't speak much for your hopes.''

Another pause came between them.

''… why do you dislike this idea so much, anyway?'' Clarke was the first to break the silence, anger beginning to rise in her throat. ''Inviting the Natblida— _the last survivor on Earth other than us—_  is the best shot we've got to survive. Hell, you're the Commander, Lexa. You know better than  _anyone_ what it takes to survive.'' And then, scornfully: ''Don't give me that  _''love is a weakness''_ or  _''trust only yourself''_ shit, because we both know you know it's not true.''

Lexa scoffed. ''For many reasons, Clarke. Your idea in itself is reckless and unreasonable, and hinges on the mere hope of  _trust._  Firstly, she  _forced_   _you_  into a  _bear_   _trap_. That does not exude trust, does it?'' And at Clarke's scoff, her mouth open, ready to fire a response in return, she rushed on. ''Secondly, she is dangerous. This is a world where everyone fends for themselves, Clarke. We can't simply invite a child into our abode and  _trust_  that she will help us. Nothing will change that.''

Clarke shook her head. ''Doesn't mean we should give up on her.'' Then, lowly, ''She's not Aden, you know that, right? She's not any of your Natblidas.''

Clarke looked at Lexa, hoping for a response, but the only one Lexa gave her was a guilty lookaway. Then, realisation dawned on Clarke's features, before it was quickly overshone with anger.  _''_ _ **I** can't believe this,'' _ she said, nearly a scoff. '' _You want to give up because she reminds you of the children you've failed?!_ Is that it?  _Because you think you'll fail her, too?!''_

And then, Clarke seemed to recognise her outburst, for she took a long breath. ''You—you can't just give up just because…'' Clarke trailed off in disbelief, her eyes returning to Lexa. But Lexa was no longer listening.

Faces,  _so many faces_ haunted her in the recesses of her mind. And though they've floated, danced round her mind so many times, nothing prepared her for them to break surface.  _By the Spirits, Aden. Vos, Sharia, Clos, Xandri, Faish, Gl_ …  _What was her name?! By the Spirits, what was it?!_

_I'm forgetting. I can't forget. I made a promise not to._

''By the Spirits, Clarke,'' she whispered involuntarily, voice thick with emotion, stifling back tears from her eyes. _''There are so many of them.''_

Clarke's expression moulded from anger to concern in less than an instant. ''Hey…'' Clarke began, inching towards Lexa. ''… it's over. You wrote them down in your book, remember?'' she said, hobbling over to the counter, trying to find the book, and when she did holding it triumphantly and offering a reassuring glance: ''see? It's right here.''

She's drowning. She knows she isn't, but she feels like she's drowning.

Clarke recites the names for her, leads her through it albeit her choked tears, but it's not enough.  _Aden Vos Sharia Clos XandriFaishGlesOrianEsoDaran… FAISHOrianXandri Aden ADEN vos clos SHARIA SHARIA gles orian orian ORIAN…_

She's always drowning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the slightly depressing chapter! Things'll improve, I promise.
> 
> Thank you all for the comments! Can I just say: best motivation ever. :D


	7. Spears and Sustenance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein there is spear-fishing and thoughts.

_68 days since Praimfaya…_

Spear-fishing turned out to be harder than it looked, especially when Clarke only had one leg for balance.

After a few dozen trials, and none remotely successful (there was one time when she managed to spear the tail of the fish as it swam away, being more of an accidental catch than anything, but that was only if she actually  _got the fish),_ Clarke decided to take a break on a boulder. She wouldn't go back to their abode yet—not so quickly. After all, it had been a pain coming down here, which would probably be even more so when she tried to get back up.

Settling the sopping-wet, practically-blunted spear by the boulder (for the amount of times it hit nothing but solid rock), Clarke stared hungrily at the creek. The sweat and the grime from her crutch, and afterwards, the spear-fishing had become all too real. How did Lexa deal with it?  _Clarke could really could use a bath._

 _Maybe later,_ her mind told her.

It took some shameful minutes until Clarke noticed the Nightblood staring at her.

It was when checking her spear that out of the corner of her eye, Clarke accidentally spotted the Nightblood, gazing at her in transfixation from behind a boulder. They were observing each other for a minute, until the Nightblood got up, and strolled down the creek, in which she began to spear-fish.

Unconsciously, Clarke took out a notepad, making herself comfortable on a boulder with a wince, placing her crutch beside the rock, and began to sketch the Nightblood and her spear-fishing techniques.

It was a quick sketch at first, something rough and simple, but her muse all but edged her on;  _just a little more shading here, just some more detail there—oh hey so_ ** _that's_** _how you do it—_ and before she knew it, she had spent thirty minutes on refining the drawing, a picture that vaguely resembled the Nightblood and a quick spear-fishing tutorial comic-sort of thing.

 _She just had to do the final touches._ But when she looked up again from her notepad, the Nightblood was gone, disappearing out of sight into a boulder, the pile of fish she'd caught left flopping by the creek.

 _''Hey_ ,  _wait!''_ Clarke yelled at the Nightblood, who, if anything, sped up at the sound of her voice. In Trigedasleng, she managed to gasp out:  _''Your fish—''_

Wincing, she took her crutch underneath her arm, and dropping her notepad at the boulder, began to hobble after the Natblida.

Until she realised she couldn't possibly catch up.

And so, with a reluctant sigh, she hobbled back to the boulder, where the drawing of the Natblida and the spear-fishing techniques resided. With one last long look, she tore the sketch from her notepad, and with a rock pinned it down to the boulder. It wasn't exactly the best compensation, but then again, leaving with a bunch of fish that the Nightblood caught (and had apparently ''forgotten about'', though Clarke knew better than that) for free didn't exactly feel… ethical. Even if they were in the middle of the aftermath of a Nuclear Apocalypse.

 _I'm going to miss those drawings,_ Clarke thought, and with a final look at the creek, she winced and descended to take the pile of fish the Natblida left by the creek. Her appetite rumbling, she began to make her way back to Shallow Valley.

…

_71 days since Praimfaya…_

Clarke really liking the Natblida was something Lexa understood. She just didn't understand how to share the sentiment, not exactly.

It had been three days since Clarke came back with a modest haul of fish, which was a significant increase from what she usually would've brought back home. Their chances of feasting on seafood were usually slim to none. It was usually ration-packets, which were infused with… chemicals Lexa couldn't even pretend to begin to be familiar with. Which was why it was fairly a nice surprise to realise then that they were eating fish for that night.

But it wasn't over then. Clarke had returned, with the same amount of fish—no less, sometimes even more—over the course of three days since it began. Every time, Lexa was greeted to a bright smile on Clarke's face and a dropped kiss on the lips, and excited ramblings about how the Natblida was ''growing closer to her'' and how they would conserve in Trigedasleng sometimes, minus the bolting.

Lexa was happy about it, no doubt, but she wasn't as enthusiastic as Clarke was. She hadn't met up with the Natblida, not since a week ago when the Natblida saw her in their abode. The offer still stood on the table, and Clarke was all the more enthusiastic for it, and though Lexa couldn't say she exactly approved, seeing Clarke ramble about the Natblida always brought a small smile to her face.

Though it had only been thirteen days since the Bear Trap incident, Clarke seemed to talk enthusiastically about the Natblida whenever the subject matter was brought up, from how Clarke was learning how to spear-fish thanks to the Natblida, or how Clarke taught the Natblida back on how to draw after their fishing episodes. It was a far cry from when Clarke called the Natblida a ''child from hell'' after the Bear Trap incident.

 _How has Clarke taken a liking to the Natblida that slammed bear jaws into her leg?_ But Lexa found herself thinking this with a resigned smile, the anger and rage that usually would've followed the sentence long gone. In a way, the Natblida reminded her of Aden. Small, uncompromising, but obedient—until obedience was thrown out of the window, that was, when it most mattered. And that she appreciated him for.

A small, sad smile coloured her face. There was no harm in trying, she supposed. No harm in trying now.

…

It was nighttime when Lexa found the dead squirrel pinned to their door.

She was just out of the door from their abode, partially on the look-out for the Natblida, who was sure to be around the Shallow Valley village—after all, there was no harm in trying to sought her out, and it  _had_  only been a week and then some since their meeting, and partially to take a fresh breath of air, to stretch her legs, as they'd put it, before she went for dinner with Clarke, when she noticed the mutant squirrel pinned to their door with a Trikru arrow. It was within Lexa's reach, and so she suspected its origin from a short, ferocious Natblida, and confirmed when she took the arrow which revealed a note that she unfolded.

 _Sorry,_ it read in Trigdasleng. Lexa stared at the note for a moment, her lips a slight quirk, before placing it in her pocket.

Paper was scarce. The only places anyone could've gotten paper from was in Becca's lab, which provided Lexa and Clarke with their notebooks, or through scavenging. She had suspected it was neither of those options, but rather stolen from their notebooks, which the Natblida then used to write her note.

With one last glance outwards into the dead night, Lexa wheeled backwards, shut the door, with the dead squirrel on her lap, and moved back into their abode.

Out in the woods, among the shadows of the trees, Madi breathed in a small sigh. Crumbling her previous notes and stuffing them into her pocket, and producing the drawing Clarke did of her in the other, which she took a long look at—she took her bow which hung from a tree branch, and stalked off into the cold night, leaving the lingering warmth of the village behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say thank god for the tutorial on turning off smart quotes, because the ‘’ was seriously killing me every time. Now how to turn off the space thing... 
> 
> Thank you so much for the comments and kudos! <3


	8. Abodes and Homes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein we have Lexa and Madi, round 2.

_78 days since Praimfaya…_

It had been two weeks since Lexa's first meeting with the Natblida.

She hadn't thought much about it at first, not for long. Especially after her argument with Clarke, that ended with the loss of her composure and a faintly-embarrassing reassurance-session with the same Clarke that was yelling at her mere seconds ago, guiding Lexa through the recital of the twelve names in an effort to calm her down.

But two weeks had given her a long time to think—and it was true. The Natblida at Shallow Valley echoed her proteges all-too-eerily, and it played a factor in why she disagreed with Clarke's fairly sound plan. She feared she would fail this Natblida like she failed her twelve wards to Ontari's hand.

_But you are not alone this time. You have Clarke. And Ontari is dead, and there is nothing that can hurt a Natblida on this Earth anymore, save for Mother Earth herself._

Lexa sucked in a breath. During the two weeks, where their haul and food-source significantly dropped due to Clarke's still-healing leg, she had tried not to think of Clarke's words, of how the Natblida would make a perfect hunter to sustain them.

But ever since then, she had woken up to find a fresh dead squirrel, pinned to their door. And then later in the afternoon, a stockpile of fresh fish that would last them for days. The squirrels of which she took with a small, exasperated head-shake before returning into the abode, the fish which she ate while enduring through Clarke's enthusiastic rants.

When Clarke had first heard the news of the Natblida's free dead mutant squirrel package plan, she was excited and could not stop talking about anything other than the Natblida for a whole day. And this was when the only subject Clarke would talk to her about was the Natblida and her still-in-development fishing skills. Now, she couldn't stop pestering Lexa about taking the Natblida in, and how she should ''try to meet up with the Natblida again, since you need a social life with her, too. Who knows? You might even be able to convince her!''

Lexa had mostly taken this with a sigh, but nothing could've prepared her for the Natblida's appearance when Clarke left for spear-fishing.

She'd assumed that the Natblida would've been at the creek with Clarke—after all, they had been bonding over spear-fishing and drawing, as far as Lexa could tell, and there wouldn't be any good reason to not miss it—unless, of course, the Natblida wanted to know more about  _her,_  too.

Lexa was sketching in their notepad when the Natblida entered their abode, without a warning or a sound.

''Can I come in?'' the Natblida asked, almost nervously. Lexa beckoned her in with a nod. The Nightblood's Trigedasleng was a mix of accents, something that vaguely resembled the Louwoda Kliron Kru's accent and something else which she couldn't directly place.

That was the least of Lexa's worries, however.

''I suppose you wouldn't be giving your name,'' Lexa said casually, as the Nightblood stared at her from the doorway. One part of her wondered if Clarke had forced the Natblida to come here, and if so, when she would pop up behind the doorframe casually with a cheeky smile and a thumbs-up beckoning her to continue conserving with the Natblida.

The mental image almost made her scoff, partially in amusement and partially in reluctance. Clarke was not here, however—something she realised when the Nightblood walked in and shut the door. Lexa was about to speak again, until the Nightblood asked, quietly, her fingers prickling one another: ''Is the invitation still up on the table?''

"It is." Lexa found herself saying. And she felt genuine about it. Perhaps she was not exactly lukewarm to Clarke's idea when she first suggested it,

Shifting nervously, bouncing on the balls of her feet, the Natblida looked at Lexa, her eyes level to hers, her voice unsure. ''May I… join?'' And at Lexa's glance, the Nightblood babbled on: ''I mean, I'm pretty sure I won't a burden and all, and I'd help out with hunting a-and the dishes and stuff… and you won't regret it, I promise.''

At the Nightblood's uneasy, but conforming glance, Lexa wanted to smile, almost, for it reminded her of a similar someone who had marched up to her and nearly demanded to be under her tutelage.

He didn't disappoint.

But even then there were trials—even for those Lexa knew were capable, for how else could she tell hot air, idle boasts, from genuine truths? So, with a cleared throat, she asked, with significant authority: ''You are clearly capable of taking care of yourself,  _goufa_.'' Images of bear-traps and a disgruntled Clarke popped into her mind, and seeing the Natblida's flush, she likely thought the same. ''And yet you teach Clarke how to fish, imburse us with… resource, and now you come  _here_. You could do well without a cripple and a lame,'' and at the Nightblood's resulting stutter, her face even more so flushed, as she stumbled over her words, Lexa tilted her chin upwards at the Nightblood. ''Indulge me. Why do you  _want_ to join us, when you can thrive so well yourself?''

The Nightblood sucked in a sigh, as her gaze darted around the abode, almost as if seeking for some invisible help. But then, when the Nightblood looked back at her, gaze hard and determined, Lexa knew that she had made up her mind. ''Like you said. There's no reason we should do this alone.'' A rushed breath, at Lexa's reaction—or lack thereof. ''And… well, I… kind of miss the company. After Praimfaya happened.'' Her stuttering was apparent, but the Nightblood concealed it with a bravado mask.

Lexa tilted her head in the slightest. ''And…?'' she prompted, but the authority in her voice had left. Replaced with something else. Familiarity. Softness. Concern?

 _And? Remember, you're not done yet. ''_ … I don't think I want to be alone anymore.'' the Nightblood said, hoarsely, her voice nearly a whisper, as if reminiscing about a past that once went untouched. Her eyes downcast, staring at her feet, expression a miles away.

''Of course,'' Lexa conceded, and at this, the ends of her lips quirked in the slightest—a small comfort, as much of an assurance she could give. ''Welcome to our home,  _goufa_. Clarke was wondering when you would ask.''

The Nightblood perked at the mention of Clarke, and this, Lexa smiled.

Perhaps they could make this work.


	9. With Love, Trigedasleng

It had been a long while since Madi spoke to someone who knew Trigedasleng. Ever since her family had died and her kru had died, Madi didn't exactly bother to learn, or to speak Trigedasleng, for that matter. When every day after the next was a fight for survival, chances were that language wasn't exactly necessary when hunting for fish and setting bear traps.

But after meeting the two strangers in the midst of Shallow Valley, Madi noticed that her Trigedasleng weren't as up to standards as it should've been. Which really irked her, because she  _really_  felt like Clarke, an outsider, shouldn't have known more Trigedasleng words than she did. Madi could almost envision her sister scolding her with the eloquence of her words, moaning about how Madi's language use ''hurt her worse than what a dance of death could've done,'' while her Mother and Father looked disapprovingly on.

Whenever Madi stumbled on that particular subject, she usually glumly turned her thoughts away from  _them_ , biting back a small sigh. Even though her sister had caused so many screaming matches between the two of them—which admittedly Madi lost, due to her being  _extremely_  young at the time (what was she, four? Five?) and with all that said ''language eloquence'' that her sister scoffed that Madi had ''possessed''—Madi would gladly give all her bear traps even to just trade her sister back. And that was really sad and pathetic and annoying, and  _SHE KNEW THAT_ … but Madi missed her family.

Which left her to the subject of accents, after Madi shrugged off as many tears as she could from the game she called: ''try not to think about your family!'' Which was not very effective, for obvious reasons.

Either way. Accents. Everyone who used Trigedasleng would eventually form one somehow. Accents were usually clan-specific, with Azgeda's draggy tones and Louwoda Kliron Kru's inflated wordings or Trikru empathising on the  _kru_ in everything.

Accents were usually Madi's go-to method in discerning Clan-specific people. But Clarke's accent had baffled her. It was like a mix between Trikru and English, dempathizing on bits of vocabulary that should've been empathised or accidentally mixing up the tones and how long she should stay on a letter in a word.

Clarke's accent had been wonky, which jarred Madi enough to remind her that though she might look like one of them, she was an outsider. She had noticed Clarke's accent emerge less and less though, ever since their sessions at the creek, but it didn't change the very clear fact that she wasn't a part of Polis. Or at least, hadn't been until fairly recently.

But Lexa's accent was perfect. It sounded familiar, at least to Madi, and was a typical Polis citizen's type of accent. She could discern from the familiar accent that Lexa was part of the Trikru, and already Madi felt somewhat settled into a modicum of trust. Trikru was familiar, a friend.

Something she could trust, though she didn't remember who—or why—that was ingrained in her mind.

And so, only the slightest on edge, as Madi looked at Lexa, she asked: "What are you doing here?''

At her query, Lexa gestured at the notepad that she placed on the table a while ago, after Madi entered. ''Recording the existing species, edibles, and flora,'' she said idly. ''It is a need, if we wish to survive in the coming future.''

Madi nodded, quietly. Usually, Madi didn't bother with notetaking or drawing or whatever—she just wasn't good at it, for starters, and so far, stuffing anything green in her mouth seemed to have worked at keeping her alive thus far. But she supposed that with only one leg on deck (after Madi injured Clarke), there would have to be a need for a backup plan.

Madi's eyes flickered from Lexa's face to her wheelchair. Her curiosity was getting the better of her. ''What happened?'' she almost blurted out, and regretted almost immediately.  _Okay, Madi, just what did that have to do with anything?_

Lexa's response was a hum so quiet she nearly couldn't hear. Then, she gestured to her legs, unmoving in a wheelchair.

Although Madi was uneasy, at first:  _didn't this intrude on Lexa's private space?_ Madi finally found herself involuntarily inching forward; and when she reached Lexa, she looked at the woman for approval; and when she nodded, Madi slightly touched Lexa's legs on the wheelchair.

They seemed no different from everyone's; despite the slight scarring and a tattoo of sorts, there was nothing out of the ordinary. It wasn't damaged, like Sankru's, or injured and broken. Or at least, it seemed so.

Madi had seen Lexa go and take care of Clarke in the bear trap, and later on while fetching water _—_ and though Madi didn't know why, Lexa couldn't use her legs—like it was just dead-weight, just hanging there for some reason Madi didn't know.

''Will it heal?'' Madi asked, because she knew even though the damage wasn't obvious, Lexa wouldn't be in a wheelchair without reason.

A small, sad smile passed the woman's features. ''No.''

At this, Madi frowned, but asked no further questions. Usually, wounds healed—even those she set for people's legs in bear traps—they would be good and new in about a few months or so. So why was this different? The woman, however, continued.

''I was shot by a person, who was trying to kill my friend.'' Then, Madi's frown deepened, because wasn't there a rule once against the Clans using guns? She didn't remember the exact details, but she did remember seeing a surge in guns in Louwoda Kliron Kru after Wanheda slayed the Mauron. Or unless the person who shot Lexa wasn't a Clan member at all.

Noticing her frown, Lexa gave a solemn smile. ''The bullet fractured my spine; messed with my nerves. I was paralysed; I could not move my legs.''

Madi's eyes flittered nervously from Lexa's legs to Lexa, as if unsure of what to make of it. ''Is that why you're here?'' Madi asked, trailing her fingers on Lexa's legs. She wondered if Lexa could feel it. ''Because you cannot move?''

Lexa nodded quietly, inexplicably, the movement so small that Madi nearly didn't catch it. ''Yes, for one,'' Lexa said, looking at Madi in the eyes. For some reason, it reminded Madi of one of the lessons she'd had in Polis. Not Louwoda Kliron Kru's, though. It was different. At Madi's questioning stare: ''I was marking down the fertile flora and calculating harvest times before you came in-however, I am finished for the day.'' Lexa's hand slipped back to her notepad. ''And two, I was waiting for Clarke.''

Madi shook her head, which seemed to visibly surprise Lexa. ''No. Clarke's not coming back for a long time. She needs to take a bit to prepare until she really begins spear-fishing.'' Then, a sheepish grin. ''She's not actually all that good at it.'' Madi offered.

At first, Lexa didn't seem to know what to make of this information, but after a few moments, Lexa's expression transformed into something of determination. ''Well,  _goufa_. Seeing we have time... would you like to go on a hunt?''


	10. Broken Arrow Shafts and Irate Nightbloods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Madi gets a little over-obsessive over certain things, and Clarke likes to nickname.

Hunting with Lexa turned out to be really fun.

It wasn't really traditional-style hunting, like the type Clarke did. First, they strung bear traps all over the place in situated ''x's'' drawn on the map (Madi would've rather placed the bear traps  _everywhere_ , but Lexa insisted). Then, they sought out some animals (they've even found a herd of mutant moose once, but sadly they all but avoided and dodged and leapt over the traps), and by making a lot of sound (mostly using Grounder war cries, which were surprisingly effective), they proceeded to herd the animals into where the bear traps were at.

It was a lot more like Madi's style of hunting, and she liked it. She'd have to take some pointers from Lexa sometime.

They'd managed to snag a deer in one of Madi's bear traps, which prompted some celebration and a lot of afterthought on how they could get the deer out of the bear trap without it running away.

But eventually, they managed to lug the deer back to Shallow Valley village with some help from both sides, to Clarke's gape once she came back with a handful of fish. Clarke had stared incredulously at the both of them, and asked Lexa what made her decide to finally resume hunting after that ''mud incident'', to which Lexa responded with a noncommittal shrug, but Madi felt like it was mostly jealousy really.

They ate like kings that night. And when they were full and the strips of deer smoked in the starry night, they told tales of legends Madi had heard so many times already—Lexa wistfully recounting the legend of their beginnings as Clarke told stories of the future that were to come, and then, to stories of the present and themselves—but never the once tired of it.

It felt amazing. And Madi loved every second of it.

 _This'll be my new life,_ she had decided, after the feast was over and laughs vibrated from Clarke's almost drunken ramblings, Lexa's soft smiles at Clarke's tales, and Madi looked on contently.

_This'll be my new life. And it should be good._

'' _Goufa_ —'' Lexa murmured slowly, a sloppy smile on twinkling in her eyes as she gestured the bottle of wine towards Clarke, who was knocked out cold by the feast. Madi didn't need to hear the rest of Lexa's words when a wicked smile began to blossom over her face.

All she needed was a rope, some towels, and a nice-looking stick.

 _Lemme take that back. It's_ **_gonna_  ** _be good._

…

_113 days since Praimfaya… (55 days since Madi)_

''When is this gonna finish?'' the Bear Trap Kid wondered aloud at the fire, which was basking the squirrels on their hastily-tied rack, as she swung her legs in impatience.

It had been the eleventh time since the Nightblood had asked the affronted question, and it was  _really_ grating on Clarke's nerves by now. They've only come back from their hunt a mere thirty minutes ago. How did the Nightblood manage to fit in so many variations of the same question by then?!

''You can go, if you want.'' Clarke said, eyes trained on the squirrels, its blood dripping into the fire. Trying not to envision a certain replacement over the rack. ''Find Lexa. She's out note-taking along the creek. You can help her spot the fish and the berries.'' And at the Nightblood's face, Clarke attempted a smile. ''Hey, it'll be fun! You might even be able to snag some fish.'' And at the Nightblood's noncommittal stare, Clarke stuck out her pinky finger. ''Promise I won't take any squirrel while you're gone.''

Sadly, Clarke already knew the answer. The Nightblood made a face at her, head cocked in the universal saying of  _really?_. ''No.''

Clarke had to stifle a sigh, before returning her gaze to the fire. She really shouldn't have been this surprised.

Anyways. It had been about a month since the Natblida slammed a bear trap on Clarke's leg, and though it had healed quite nicely, she was left with a jagged scar. Her leg still hurt sometimes, and sometimes she limped because of the pain (which Lexa acknowledged with a knowing nod, signaling to an all-too-eager Natblida for assistance), but it was gradually fading, lessening with each day come to past.

She and the Nightblood have grown a little bit closer (emphasis on the  _little,_ since Clarke didn't even know her  _name_ ) during the five weeks of hunting, bonding, and sharing.

Clarke had taken to calling the Natblida the Bear Trap Kid, since it had been five weeks since they've taken the Nightblood in,  _(not taken, she thought. Invited her, which meant she could leave anytime)_ and despite the time they've spent together, the Bear Trap Kid still hadn't dropped any hint to her name. Which wasn't great, because Clarke was seriously getting tired of referring her as the ''Natblida'' or ''Nightblood'' to Lexa whenever they talked about her in private.

''Bear Trap Kid'' sounded better in her head, at least, when compared to ''Natblida''.  _Natblida_ just didn't compensate the complete and total horror of a personality of the plucky, quirky, occasionally-bestial Natblida she and Lexa brought home.

For starters, the Nightblood insisted on keeping her bow. Which was fine by Clarke, if it wasn't the bow  _she stole from them._ And she insisted on creating her own arrows, which would be fine if the Nightblood didn't keep mixing her ''better'' arrows with theirs in the quiver, which led to an excited attempted-shooting of a big-game moose that appeared near Shallow Valley village, where the arrow Lexa drew snapped at its spine and scared away the moose, and questions about Clarke's handicraft were made.

Secondly, the Nightblood would  _not_  like anything unless it had to do with some form of violence or thrill. Scavenging for reusable parts or food? Nah! Hunting wild mutant birds with an astonished Lexa sounded  _way_  better, even though their claws could virtually rip one's face off. Notetaking of surroundings and plants so to determine which were edible and which ones were not?  _No way_ , stuffing whatever was green into one's mouth can't possibly go wrong, right? Keeping track of big-game animals so they could herd them into stationed traps when the time was right? Eh, placing bear traps all around the place feels a lot easier. And you thought not straying far from familiar territory and scouting out unfamiliar territory sounded like common sense, right? Nope, better get lost and hope one could trace their way back home again!

Okay, so maybe Clarke was a little harsh. And though the Natblida had its moments, those moments were mostly covered with tiring amounts of frustration, annoyance, and  _no goufa you cannot joyride on Lexa's chair it's hers_ and the like.

And lastly, if bear traps weren't enough, the Bear Trap Kid liked  _trebuchets._ Clarke vaguely remembered reading about that in some medieval textbook. Described as a monster of a weapon in its time, its weight release system made it capable of skewering  _stone walls,_ not to mention castles in itself. And compared to the wooden ones they've made when they set camp when The 100 touched ground, it made her involuntarily wonder.

What made this kid love painful, soul-breaking mechanisms so much?

Anyway.

''When're you gonna let me see Lexa work on the arrows?'' Bear Trap Kid whined, still swinging her legs.''You promised you'd let me.  _Pleaaase?''_

Clarke had to bite back a few select curse words.''I promised I'd let you if  _Lexa_ let you.'' she explained.''If you really want to see her work on the arrows so much, you should ask her for permission.''

The Nightblood sulked at Clarke.''But she still hasn't forgiven me for messing with the arrows. After that moose-hunt. She'd never let me  _touch a_ shaft or a feather or a string ever again.'' And then, dejectedly:''I'm never gonna be a good arrow-maker. Or a good marksman. Unless you get through her for me.  _Please_?''

And at this, Clarke couldn't help but burst out laughing. The Nightblood stared at her, bewildered, until she spoke.''I'm sure Lexa would be more than happy to teach you, if to stop you from creating bad arrows at all.''

The Nightblood seemed to visibly perk up.''Really?''

Clarke couldn't help the chuckle that surfaced as she thought about Lexa's scowl while rummaging through their arrows after the aforementioned moose-hunt. More than half of them broke upon contact, as the other half jarred and fell short midair during some ''not so-dangerous'' testing in their abode. The horror on her face when she realised that only the Nightblood's premade arrows were left.''Oh, definitely.''

But then, at the Nightblood's narrowed, as if she was weighing if Clarke was joking or not. Clarke attempted to bite back a sigh and a smile, but both ended up shining through instead, much to the Nightblood's distressed confusion: ''Look… Lexa doesn't mind. Really. You've just gotta talk to her.'' Clarke took a breath, and stifled back the smile on her face. ''Tell her you're really sorry about what happened. And that you want to learn how to make better arrows.'' Almost immediately, the Nightblood sprung from the log, ready to run to the creek, until Clarke sternly said: '' _When_  she comes back.''

The Nightblood still looked nervous, but nodded. ''Okay, then.'' she said quietly, but enough for Clarke to catch it.

''Hey, cheer up,'' Clarke teased, a smile on her face, as she poked the Nightblood. She seemed momentarily stunned for a moment, until indignance ran over her features and with her tounge stuck out from her left cheek and a cheeky smile, poked Clarke back. Clarke gave a mock gasp, before she poked back again, and before they knew it, they were engaged in a poking war, which was how Lexa found them, weakly poking each other on the logs, the squirrel smoking in the dusk.

…

''… Lexa?''

''Yes, goufa?'' came Lexa's reply from the opposite log, the fire illuminating her features amid the shrouded night.

Madi's eyes flickered from the fire to look at Lexa in the eyes. ''… can you teach me how to make better arrows?''

Clarke's encouraging grin was all the response Lexa needed. Turning back to the Nightblood, she let her lips quirk at the corners of her mouth. ''I thought you wouldn't ask.''

Madi's beam glowed through the night like a star.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you liked this chapter! It's slightly longer than usual (not by much) but hopefully it turned out okay. :D
> 
> <3


	11. Heda and Wanheda?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Madi finds out.

_143 days since Praimfaya... (85 days since Madi)._

After a day of bursting around their abode, sharpening arrowheads (while leaving the subsequent tying to Lexa), and hunting with Clarke, the Natblida seemed utterly exhausted. And so after dinner, the Natblida went into her room without complaint, after Clarke suggested that she sleep.

And so Lexa tucked the Natblida into her bed, and waited for her to fall asleep. She had decided to wait ten minutes for the Nightblood to fall asleep—and when it seemed as if her time was up and that the Nightblood was sound asleep, the Natblida either switched positions or moved once again, which led to a repeat of the entire process.

It had been about twenty minutes of waiting, until the Natblida yawned. ''Tell me a story,'' she murmured drowsily as she tossed around the bed, her sheets following with her. Lexa wondered if it were words spoken in her sleep, or if the Natblida was unconsciously saying the words.

Various stories popped in her head, floating around as if they were a memory-box, ready to be opened. She took a breath, and quietly, so to not disturb the Natblida if she were in her dreams: ''Have you heard of the Commanders?''

The Natblida nodded, her head curling into her pillow. She was unsure of whether if it was a reflexive reaction, or if the Natblida really did hear her, but she felt slightly more confident than she was before.

Feeling the back of her neck, where a scar and a tattoo met, she gave a small, forlorn smile, somewhat to herself but to the Spirit more than anything. ''Once, there was a Commander by the name of Becca Pramheda…''

…

_173 days since Praimfaya... (115 days since Madi)._

''Nearly there—ow!'' Clarke groaned as she nearly lost her footing, as the fawn carcass that hung from two bamboo sticks jostled as Madi cringed, but thankfully, the deer didn't fall. That was responded with another one of Clarke's signature groans. ''Damn, Lexa, you could've picked a better spot.''

''If I could come here, then so could you.'' was all Lexa offered to that, much to Clarke's exasperation and Madi's incoherent protests.

''Who d'you think we are?'' Madi groaned as she tried to heft up the bamboo sticks, and Lexa wheeled over to help her. Huffing, Madi grunted: ''I'm no  _gona_.''

" _Wanheda,_  and our elusive Natblida," Lexa drawled in her answer, her eyes flickering from their faces to the their deer they've brought in.

Clarke groaned, mostly in exasperation and she plopped down the bamboo sticks on their Y-shaped rack above the fire, practically dragging Madi along as Madi's steps spluttered and stopped, as she stared at Clarke completely uncomprehendingly.

Mostly because Lexa, the person whom invited her in, that was paralysed and fairly nice in general, if not a bit strict, called Clarke, the person whom she'd kinda-accidentally Bear-Trapped and broke her leg for a bit.  _Wanheda. Wanheda_ , the Skaikru that slaughtered thousands in the Mountain Men's base. Stories that were whispered on the streets and between her Mother and Father, with ecstasy and fear and awe and a hint of pride. Madi barely had the time to speak " _wait, Wanheda—_ " until Clarke, the  _Wanheda, the Mountain-Slayer, the saviour of the Ripas,_ dropped another bomb.

Shrugging off the load of the fawn, and settling it over the rack under the prickling fire, as Madi's trying-to-comprehend face flew completely past her, Clarke said, grinning: ''You're the one to speak,  _Heda_.''

It took a second for Madi to process. And then she gawked at Lexa in total and complete surprise. Because  _no_ , Clarke and Lexa did  _not_  just drop two bombs in a day.

Or should Madi say,  _Wanheda and Heda._

A million thoughts surged through her mind, mostly involving the words:  _how? (did she_ ** _not_** _she know this before) what? (is wrong with them for keeping this from her for_ ** _so long)_** _why? (did the two people left on Earth_ ** _had_** _to be figures Madi idolized, and not bratty annoying Fleimkipas?!)_

In all her life when she imagined meeting her idols, this had not been it.

It took a while for Madi to regain the ability to speak again. Mouth still open in a gawk, the words naturally tumbled out. ''Wait a second.  _Heda?! You_ were the Heda of everything!?''

And then, at the resulting smile, Madi almost gawked even further, as the cogs in her brain began to turn. '' _Leska kom Trikru._  The Commander that united the 12 Clans.  _That_  was why your name felt so familiar.''

''13 Clans,'' Lexa— _the Commander—_ corrected, and Madi's gawk dropped even further.  _Oh Spirits. Right. The Coalition. The Skaikru. Oh Spirits,_ ** _this_** _really is the Commander and her lover, the Wanheda…_

That would mean…

_Oh Spirits. I broke the Mauron-Slayer's leg in a Bear Trap. I called the Last True Commander ''not dangerous'' in my head and wondered WHY she sounded like a Commander so much. I didn't REALISE that LEXA was the same LESKA that ruled basically the entire world. Damnit, when I thought it couldn't get more embarrassing than THAT…_

Then, almost indignantly turning to Clarke, Madi asked, huffing: ''Why didn't you tell me this earlier?!''

Clarke shrugged, a smile still toying her face. ''It didn't seem important then.''

At that, Madi's blinking stare of disbelief reverted back to Lexa. ''I'd agree with her.''

''How is being a  _Commander of Everything_ not important?! And why didn't you tell me you were the  _Mauron-Slayer_?!'' And then, as if recognising her outburst in front of the Heda of the 13 Clans, and the Mountain Slayer, her lover, Madi closed her mouth slowly. Still gawking. If that was even physically possible. ''Can you tell me everything?''

''In due time,'' Clarke said, with a smile. And when Madi gawked even further, the duo shared a laugh.

''But how…?'' Madi said, almost in disbelief, her gaze reverting to Lexa. The cogs in her brain turned, but not fast enough. She knew Lexa the Commander, all right, but Lexa the  _paraplegic_  Commander? She didn't remember that being taught that about Lexa in Polis.

At Lexa's questioning stare, Madi coughed. ''I mean… no offence… but I thought Commanders could fight? That the Coalition refused to accept anybody but an able-bodied Commander?'' And then, her brow furrowed, because she could  _swear_ she remembered Lexa standing during the Conclave. Right? So if it wasn't before her rule that she got shot, then it must've been in-between, which would explain why they were here.  _Oh_.  _Ohh_.

_Wow. Good job me. I am so out of date. That's what I get when my family smuggles ourselves outta Polis and joins Louwoda Kliron Kru where practically nobody bothers about gossip._

''I did,'' Lexa murmured to Madi's question, the crackling flame mirroring in her eyes. ''I did fight. But I suppose my people didn't want me to; at least, not then.''

Clarke's eyes met Lexa's, as if sharing a mutual understanding. Madi understood Lexa's words, even though they were so impossibly  _vague_ (did all Commanders speak like this?)

Still. Madi's incredulous stare met both Wanheda and Heda. ''If you didn't mention it today, then when were you gonna  _ever_  tell me this?''

When Clarke and Lexa shared a knowing look, Madi had to stifle her disbelieving laugh.

They really didn't mean to not tell her that they were Wanheda and Heda for her entire life, right?

Right?

Suddenly, the scent of steaming richness overwhelmed her. Clarke waved the venison under her blinking (and definitely  _not_  watering) eyes. ''Hey, are you gonna eat this?''

Still glaring at Clarke and blinking a lot, Madi snatched the stick from Clarke and shoved the fawn meat down her throat. All the while blinking the hot tears from her eyes and hiding away the full-fledged embarrassment on her face, as the duo stared on, amused at the frightfully flushed-red Natblida.

_Wanheda and Heda. Oh Spirits. I'm gonna take a long time to process this._


	12. Who Uses Trebuchets Anymore?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Madi tries to get over it. Tries.

_194 days since Praimfaya (136 days since Madi)_

Clarke had been humming as she walked out of the abode, requiring a furious Madi to catch up as she fumbled over her weapons, while juggling one work-in-progress trebuchet in her hands.

Madi had planned to work on her trebuchet by the creek. Mainly because, if she finished the trebuchet there, she had infinite ammo and a lake for target practice. But  _that_ plan had went to dust, mainly because… well…

''I don't need your help!'' Madi mumbled as she stole her eyes away from Clarke, and coddling the trebuchet in her hands, trudged at a faster pace to the creek.

Clarke's eyes glinted mischievously, as she poked Madi in the arm. ''Why don't you ask us for help? After all,  _I am_ the Wanheda.'' A grin. ''And Lexa's Heda, of course.''

At this, Madi flushed furiously. ''It's only been three weeks since you told me  _that!''_ she huffed, exasperatedly. Nope, she wasn't ready to say their names yet. She did not need the reminder or the memories, thank you very much. Or the mental image of both Wanheda and Heda helping her out with making her trebuchet. Yeah, definitely not that.

''It's  _been_  three weeks!'' Clarke grinned, and poked Madi again. Causing the wobbly trebuchet in her hands to nearly fall as she stumbled down a slope.

Madi scowled at the unusually cheery Wanheda, and held on tighter to her trebuchet. Glared at her. ''Three weeks is  _not_  a long time to get over the fact that you're both…'' she trailed off exasperatedly. Because no, Madi really  _didn't_  need the mental images of everything she'd done to both Clarke and Lexa in the past four months, oblivious to the fact that they were both Wanheda and Heda respectively.

_Oh_ **_Spirits_ ** _, how did she not see it AT ALL?!_

''And four months is a long time without a name drop.'' Then, elbowing the seven-year old playfully (and receiving another glare), Clarke encouraged with a kind smile: ''C'mon, goufa. Any hints?''

Bear Trap Kid only scowled in a further show of exasperation, and stalked off down the valley towards the creek.

Clarke sighed, and followed after her to the creek. The Bear Trap Kid's embarrassment at their titles was a whole lot more than what Clarke would've expected in the first place. And four months  _was_  a long time going without a name.

Oh well. Everyone had their secrets. And so with a small sigh, a mutter to herself of how the seven-year old acted like a moody teen, she caught up with the Bear Trap Kid to the creek.

…

_224 days since Praimfaya (166 days since Madi)._

It had been about two months since the Nightblood learned of Clarke and Lexa's beings as Wanheda and Commander.

The Nightblood didn't seem to mind so much that they were Heda and Wanheda now, which was mostly a good thing, because Lexa  _was_  getting a bit tired of Clarke's jokes and the Nightblood's embarrassment at them. Though, Lexa did admit, watching the Nightblood flush at the mention of their titles did bring slight amusement, despite their current, post-apocalyptic predicament.

And now, Lexa was doing good on her promise to the Natblida of teaching her how to create arrows.

''Practice on the bamboo stick, goufa.'' Lexa instructed, gesturing the Nightblood to retrieve two of the sticks lying on the ground. The Nightblood eagerly picked them up, and passed one to Lexa.

Lexa took the bamboo stick, and gestured to the Nightblood's own. ''Try making an arrow of it.''

''But Lexa—it's too big!'' Madi protested, as she stared up and down at the bamboo stick that was half her size and too thick for any sort of shooting.

Lexa nodded slightly. ''I know. It is for practice.''

The Nightblood still seemed uneasy, but nodded. She sat down on the floor, legs crossed—and got to work.

After a while of cutting, tying, and mutters of frustration, the Nightblood exclaimed: ''Done!''

Lexa's brow furrowed when she examined the Nightblood's ''arrow''. The feather positioning was mostly correct, and the arrowhead was notched in the wood; however, the knot was loose and needed severe improvement. Lexa gestured at the Nightblood to come over. ''Here, goufa. Let me.''

First Lexa untied the knot, as the Nightblood watched keenly on. Gesturing the Nightblood to keep the feathers secure around the bamboo, she began with a clove hitch, and tied upwards with consecutive half-knots and securing each one, until she was finished with the end of the ''arrow''.

After it was all done, the Nightblood seemed visibly excited. ''So,  _that's_  it? I can literally make one right now!'' she said, excitedly—which was when Lexa had to cut her off, because it was no time to find more unusable arrows in her quiver.

'' _Goufa_ , remember— this is practice with a bamboo stick. For actual arrows, you will have to whittle the stick, sharpen the point, heat it, and secure an arrowhead and add fletchings. It is not as simple as placing feathers and an arrowhead on a stick and calling it a day.''

Suddenly, the door to the abode opened, revealing Clarke, who stumbled in with a loud sigh. Then, her eyes flickered over to Lexa and Madi, seemingly noticing them for the first time as she strolled in. ''Sorry. Am I interrupting something?''

Lexa smiled, softly, as Clarke dropped a kiss on her lips. ''No.''

Behind them, the Nightblood made a face.

Clarke laughed as the Nightblood sulked. Gazing at Lexa, who was smiling as well, she said: ''Mind if I borrow her for a sec?''

Lexa shook her head, and placed the bamboo arrow to the side. A gasp came from the Nightblood as she looked up at Clarke, who had put down her backpack on the table and was rummaging through it. ''Is it a trebuchet?''

''Hah, no.'' Clarke grinned, as the Nightblood seemed visibly miffed. ''But it's something alright.''

Clarke dug into her backpack, and took out one long piece of wood, around sixteen inches long and half an inch wide. The Nightblood's eyes shone in disbelief as she gazed at the wood, awed.

''Whoa!'' the Nightblood beamed as she examined the piece. ''That's perfect for the arm! Thanks, Clarke!'' she yelped, and taking the part from Clarke's hands, she bounded into her room.

Lexa smiled, somewhat in exasperation. ''Don't encourage her, Clarke.''

Clarke only responded with a grin. ''Hey, you don't know when a trebuchet might come into handy.''

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought! <3 Additionally, feel free to leave critique and suggestions, I'll try my best to listen! 
> 
> On another note, though, as you might see, the first year's coming to a close. Hmm...


	13. Trucks. Of Course.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the kru finds an abandoned truck. Sounds familiar...

_254 days since Praimfaya (196 days since Madi)._

They were trudging along when they found the truck in the mud.

''Holy cra—'' Clarke exclaimed and ran up to the truck. Madi's eyes were similarly wide, as she followed suit, while Lexa stared on from behind as she wheeled up towards them, unsure of why they were making a fuss over it.

''Whoa! This is a beast!'' Madi almost squealed, visibly impressed as she wiped the windshield with her sleeve. And then, she bounded down the back of the truck, and ran her fingers across the military truck's side, the colours of green and brown camouflage painted on the truck, weathered over time, but still apparent.

Lexa titled her head at the truck once she caught up, as she ran her gloved fingers over the mud. What was so special about this piece of metal?

''I can make so many bear traps from this!'' she heard the Nightblood yell out from the other side of the truck, as she heard the sounds of an excited shuffle and a lot of excited glances into the wheels of the truck. ''And—oh! A trebuchet!''

Lexa hoped that by  _a trebuchet,_ the Nightblood meant that she could use the truck wheels to construct a trebuchet, and not that she found a trebuchet in the truck.

''No bear traps for now,'' Clarke murmured in response, as the Nightblood groaned. ''Or trebuchets.'' Another groan. Opening the hood, and peeking into the engine— ''I think I can find a way to make this work.''

…

_284 days since Praimfaya (226 days since Madi)._

Though it had been a month since they found the truck, Clarke still hadn't gotten around to making it work yet.

Madi wasn't really sure on the specifics of trucks or engines and whatnot, but she was  _pretty_   _sure_  that a month was a bit of a long time in trying to get a truck up and moving.

Clarke had spent most of the days now trying to make the engine work. Madi sometimes joined along with her, mainly because a) she was bored, and b) she might be able to take some parts away for her bear traps and trebuchet. So far, though, the truck had only filled her desire for Option A, while Option B generally remained nonexistent as Clarke had insisted so.

But that was okay. Madi had patience.

Sometimes, Madi wondered if Clarke actually made process on the truck. Because all Madi really saw Clarke do was peek under the hood, check stuff like under the truck and the gas in the back, and pace around in frustration. Madi had firmly decided that if Clarke ever abandoned her project in ''making it start'', she was gonna take it over and dissect the truck for studying and bear-trap related purposes.

But that thought had flown off her mind when one day, Clarke managed to jumpstart the engine. Madi had been completely surprised when the truck made a sound akin to a low growl, and then became excited,  _because sheesh Clarke actually might make it work and then they might be able to drive all over the place!_

They still had a long way until driving it, though. At least that was Madi's guess because if it took a month for Clarke to jumpstart the engine, she guessed that it was gonna take quite a bit of time until they actually managed to get to drive all over the place.

...

_Notebook - 285 days since Praimfaya._

_(Translated from Trigedasleng)_

_CLARKE ACTUALLY MADE THE TRUCK WORK._

_SHE JUMPSTARTED THE ENGINE AND GOT IN THE TRUCK AND TOLD ME TO GET ON. THEN SHE PRESSED DOWN ON THE GAS AND IT SPURTED MUD ALL OVER THE PLACE BUT THEN WE WERE FREE FROM THE MUD DITCH!_

_I RODE IN THE TRUCK. WE DROVE BACK TO LOWODA KLIRON KRU. LEXA WAS SO SURPRISED WHEN WE GOT OFF THE TRUCK BUT THEN SHE PRETENDED NOT TO CARE AND LOOKED AWAY BUT SHE WAS STILL SURPRISED._

_I SURPRISED THE HEDA!_

_IT FEELS AMAZING._

_THE RIDE WAS AWESOME. THE FORESTS SWEPT BY SO QUICKLY. CLARKE WAS BEHIND THE WHEEL AND SHE WAS GRINNING THE WHOLE TIME. NOW WE CAN DRIVE ALL OVER THE PLACE! I WANT TO DO IT AGAIN._

_I CAN'T WAIT TO DO IT AGAIN._

...

Lexa was rendered fairly incoherent when Clarke and Madi drove into Shallow Valley in a truck.

She had been tending to their ''farm'' when she heard a screech come from behind, and when she had twisted her head to the source of the sound she saw a large sage-green truck, that had parked to a stop in front of their abode.

She should not have been so surprised, she supposed. However, she did not exactly expect Clarke's ''three-step daily plan to fixing the truck'' to actually become a success.

Perhaps most of her surprise had stemmed from the fact that Clarke had actually managed to imbue the once-lifeless truck with  _life_ , even though it had seemed rather implausible-bordering on impossible when Clarke had first announced the project. Or perhaps it was merely surprise at seeing a truck bump through the untended paths, through trees, and enter the village while stopping in front of their abode. Either way. 

Glee and a hint of happiness had resided on Clarke's expression when she had left the truck, slamming the door (despite the indignant creak that came from it when it did), and grinning with pride as she looked at Lexa for some form of emotion to appear on her face, which was hopefully  _none,_ because  _yes_ , she did have her doubts regarding Clarke's truck-plan, and  _yes_ , she  _was_  proven wrong, all of which she thought while she schooled impassivity on her features.

However, at Madi's exhilarated glee once she jumped off the truck when it halted to a stop, followed by Clarke closely behind, Lexa had shaken her head, hiding a small smile underneath, as she turned away and wheeled into their abode.

A truck. They had managed to kickstart a truck, which had only been stuck, broken, dead in mud a month ago.  _A truck,_ something with far too many mechanisms to keep ahold of and parts that seemed unnecessarily complicated _._  They managed to make a  _truck_  work, and to drive it, even.

Silently, Lexa hoped that a trebuchet wouldn't be next. Though it was a desperate hope, a frivolous one at that, when taking into account Madi's obsession with olden-style contraptions, it was still a hope. And desperate hopes were usually those most answered, weren't they?

Hopefully, it wouldn't be a full-scale trebuchet that was next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments last chapter! They were really motivating to read and I had a huge smile on my face, haha. Let me know what you thought— suggestions/ideas/critique are always welcome! :D (Especially ones about trebuchets. xD)
> 
> On another note though, the next chapter will be a little bit longer, I promise. :D Thanks for reading once again, Year One's coming into a close. Year two, on the other hand...


	14. Names

_345 days since Praimfaya (287 days since Madi)._

''Lexa's taking  _so long!''_ the Natblida whined, swinging her legs from her seat on the log. ''She said it was just gonna be a quick hunt. Like twenty minutes ago. She's  _still_  not back yet.'' the Nightblood moaned, as she stared longingly at the fire, as if waiting for the rabbit meat to magically finish cooking on the rack.

Clarke almost chuckled at the Nightblood's antics. ''Calm down, Bear Trap Kid.'' she soothed. ''She needs some time to get back. Not everything can go on schedule down to the last minute. And if she's super late, then we'll have dinner first before her.'' Then, cheekily, she said: ''Don't tell her, though. It'll be our secret. Agreed?''

However, if there was any indication that Bear Trap Kid heard her, it was when she quirked an eyebrow at Clarke, as she swung her legs up and down in a rhythm in front of the fire. '' _Bear Trap Kid?_  Really?''

Clarke shrugged, hiding an emerging grin that began to form on her lips. She feigned a yawn. ''Not like you've given me anything better to work with, kiddo.''

Bear Trap Kid scowled at Clarke.

Silently, Clarke wondered if riling up the Natblida was  _really_ a good tactic to get her to drop a name. Probably not. But still...

''So, Bear Trap Kid...'' she began slyly, much to the scowl of the Natblida. ''What's the deal with you and the bear traps anyway?''

(Clarke didn't add  _trebuchet. Trebuchet_ would just spiral the Nightblood into a passionate rant about the said medevial weaponary. Which wasn't exactly the topic she wanted to stray on for now.)

''They're good.'' she huffed, crossing her arms and staring into the fire. ''I like 'em.''

''More than my leg?''

''More than your leg.'' the Natblida huffed out, pushing her crossed arms further into herself, as she stared sulkily into the fire.

Clarke sounded a mock gasp. ''That hurt. Why the mechanisms and not me?''

Bear Trap Kid momentarily paused in her sulking to glare at Clarke. ''Mechanisms don't call me  _names._ '' But then, her gaze lingered uneasily at Clarke's leg, as if still unsure whether if it was safe to talk about the whole bear-trap debacle that happened. Even if it had nearly been nine months since then. ''Well... I  _might_ rank you above bear traps,  _if_  you stop calling me Bear Trap Kid. And that's a  _MASSIVE_  if.'' Bear Trap Kid stated, glancing at a seemingly-contemplating Clarke.

A grin crept unto her features. ''Okay, so... not-Bear-Trap-Kid, what's your name, then?''

Clarke looked expectantly at the Natblida, expecting to see a scowl or a glare, but only to find the Natblida's gaze drop to her foot. Almost as if shrinking into herself. Her crossed arms no longer seemed to be there for the sake of anger, but seemed more like she was hugging herself, for a comfort to her saddened expression.

She felt bad. ''Hey...'' she began, and slid towards the Natblida from her side of the log. The Natblida didn't meet her expression, but instead was staring at the ground. Now, being closer to the Natblida, she saw that the playfulness had long drained out of her expression, her features contorted into sorrow, her eyelids blinking slowly, as if pushing something back.

Okay. Clarke officially felt terrible.

''You don't need to tell me, if you don't want to.'' Clarke quietly said, her eyes mirroring the crackling fire that the Nightblood had stared at. ''I was never a huge fan of names. Sure, it's important and it's what makes you  _you_ , but at the end of the day, we could all have our names switched around and it wouldn't matter. We're still...  _us,_ and our families are still our families. I don't think... well, nothing can change that.''

At this, the Nightblood's gaze flickered away from her foot, and then to the forests surrounding them. Clarke felt worry gnaw at her.  _Was she losing her?_ ''I mean... my people call me Wanheda. Only those I know call me Clarke. But that doesn't really change the fact that I'm me, you know, even if they do have all these extravagant names for me out there.'' And at the thought of  _extravagant names,_ Clarke bit back a chuckle. ''Don't even get me started on Lexa.''

The Nightblood was still staring into the forests, but she seemed to perk a little at the mention of Lexa's name.

''I mean, I thought I had it bad enough. Wanheda. I mean, that sounds awfully a lot like  _one Heda_ to me, and I really don't think Lexa would approve.'' At this, Clarke chuckled to herself, as the Natblida stared off into space. ''I'm surprised she still wanted to be my girlfriend after that.'' The Nightblood's gaze flickered from the forest to Clarke. ''We also have Mauron Slayer. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate it and all, but being the  _Slayer of Morons_ doesn't sound like the best title, don't you think?''

Clarke's chain of rambling was broken by a small, soft giggle. Gazing upwards from the fire, Clarke saw the Natblida stifiling a smile, the sadness in her eyes still prominent, but was beginning to wash away.

Clarke made herself seem offended. ''Did you not like the titles?''

In response, another giggle came from the Natblida.

''No, I just can't imagine calling you the  _one Heda_ in front of Lexa Heda.'' the Nightblood giggled, exaggerating her  _Skaikru_  accent, much to Clarke's sigh. ''I mean... no offense, Clarke, but you're not the greatest at this  _leadership_  stuff...'' and then,  _she_  gave a sly grin to Clarke.

Clarke scowled, but inside, her heart soared. Grinning at the Natblida: ''Oh, you evil, little  _goufa_...''

The Nightblood squealed when Clarke rammed her with a flurry of tickles. And then some more, when she attacked Clarke back with tickles of her own.

And when they were settled, both panting from the excursion, the Natblida said, ever so quietly: ''It's Madi.''

'What?'' Clarke's eyes flittered to her, once, twice. As if she couldn't believe what the Nightblood had just said.

Quietly, like a secret that wasn't supposed to be heard: ''Don't call me Bear Trap Kid.'' A small, almost unforseen smile passed the Nightblood's tiny features. ''My name's Madi.''

Clarke stopped, for a moment, as if contemplating the Nightblood's words, until a small grin blossomed over her face. ''Gotcha, Bear Trap Kid.''

And at the Nightblood's scowl, Clarke laughed. ''Madi. Don't worry. I won't be forgetting that name in a long time.''

…

''So... Madi.''

It felt unusual to say her name; throughout the months, all they've referred Madi to was as  _the Nightblood_ or  _Natblida,_ addressing her as  _goufa, the child,_ and for Clarke—the Bear Trap Kid.

Lexa had never thought she would've had a name to place the goufa's face, or at least, not so quickly _._ It would be eventual that they learn the Nightblood's name, however throughout the months, Lexa had accepted that they wouldn't learn the Nightblood's name until at least a few years had passed, due to the Nightblood's admandant refusal with regards to sharing—at least until an emergency struck. (She vaguely remembered a conversation about the Nightblood's name ending with a stuck-out tounge and a promise of  _only—AND ONLY—when I'm dead.)_ The practical technicalities of it aside, she wondered if Clarke had to threaten the Nightblood to bring out her name. Lexa would have to evaluate the risks of dire tickle-matches later on.

Additionally, there was always the unusual, insistent nagging in the back of Lexa's mind that the goufa might've forgotten her own name herself, however nonsensical that may have been.

However, the Nightblood had voluntarily given her name to Clarke, which in turn had transferred itself to Lexa when Clarke had told her after dinnertime, via furious hushes and muted exclamations. So they were here now, inside Madi's room, as Lexa tucked her to sleep, waiting yet for a response to yield from Madi.

Madi was nervous, that was obvious in itself. And Lexa couldn't blame her; not really, for she was going through the period of worry, of being judged. ''Mhmm.''

Lexa hummed softly. She recalled the stories she had told to Madi at night; ranging from commonfolk tales of Polis to legends of their people and their krus, and so, she attempted something familiar to place the Natblida at ease. ''It is an interesting name. Stems from Trikru roots. I had known a few by the same name, once. But none exactly like you.''

''Really?''

''Yes. Not entirely uncommon. There was a Trikru Commander once, named Maddie.''

 _''Madi?_ Really? _''_

''Maddie. Different spelling, but similar nonetheless.'' Then, she felt the gears of her brain turn. Silently thanking the Spirit for its projection— ''Would you like to hear her story?''

A furious nod came from Madi.

''Well. Her story starts in Louwoda Kliron Kru, after finding a crashed jet's remains within the forests...''

…

And after Lexa's story, of Maddie the Commander, she curled up in bed and pretended to sleep, and it was only after she heard the creak of the floorboards and the close of a light did she blink and opened her eyes.

She watched, through the window outside, the villages and the forests surrounding them, the chirps of birds and crickets and the sounds of animals alive in the night, and up above covered a starry night. She watched, and imagined, a Commander with a name like hers, trekking through the village in a call as she pulled along the dead body she found in the remains of the plane by its vest, as she called for the current Commander in a question of the body's origin and its pasts.

He had her sent into the Conclave for she dared search for answers, a time when Conclaves were hailed as sport instead of the calling of a new Commander… and it was then when she won it all, pierced the outraged Commander in the chest, and ascended to Commander herself.

Lexa had ended the story there, but Madi had pleaded for more. She wanted to know what had happened to Maddie in her rule—she wanted to know how she died, to hear how it all ended. And it was then when Lexa, with a warning in her words, continued the story.

But because Maddie had killed the past Commander, and that act was anarchy in itself, the people had her entire family executed in a lynch. And it was too late she came in, too late she, in vehemence, stopped her people, and too fast, too quickly her family died.

And it was with a resigned sigh that Lexa ended her tale with a vengeful Commander, that detested her people, dark hatred burning in her eyes, sitting on a throne she never wanted. Maddie had died, eventually, found in her room with a slit throat, only after all the participants of the lynch of her family died.

Lexa had finished the tale, her eyes flickering away from Madi's. And it was then when she closed the lights and left, and Madi thought. Of the tale of family.

Maddie the Commander was like Madi, but they were  _not_  all the same. Maddie turned her back on Polis, on her people, after her family had gruesomely died as a direct result of her actions. Madi's family died, hunted because she was Nightblood. Madi had loathed, feared the Fleimkipas for it, yes. But did she hate everyone for it?

She twisted on her side, troubled. Did she?

Madi… Madi never really thought she'd find a family again. Not after what happened. Heck, she never even thought she'd tell her name to anyone  _ever,_ especially not after the promise she'd made. Not after she promised not to tell anyone, lest the Fleimkipas find out, figure it out and track her down.

Her name was known to no one but her family, and herself. It was what her parents told her, and it felt all too long ago, even if it wasn't but a year.

But Clarke and Lexa…

They were close enough, Madi supposed. Close enough.

…

They had all been sat around the table, gazing at Madi expectantly. Madi was nervous, fidgeting with her fingers as her eyes jumped from Clarke and Lexa, then back and forth again.

 _Remember… you're not betraying your family 'cause you decided to share their tale. You're_ **_honouring_  ** _them._

''Clarke. Lexa.'' Madi took a breath. ''I brought you here… because I need to tell you something.''

_You can do this._

Lexa gazed at her solemnly. Nodded once. Asking her to continue on.

_You're safe here, Madi. Nothing—not even Fleimkipas can hurt you now._

Clarke titled her head in curiosity. ''What is it?''

_You're okay. You can do this._

Madi took a short breath breath.  _Say it, Madi. Trust yourself… and trust_ ** _them_** _. It'll all tumble out from there._ ''I had a family—'' And then, softer: ''I-I had a sister once.''

Lexa seemed to soften. Clarke bit her lip, and grasped Madi's hand on the table in an attempt of comfort.

Madi choked back something. ''She was so  _annoying_. Always thought she was better 'cause she was so much older. But we had songs and we had games and we sung 'em and we played together.  _Flou—''_ and then Madi blinked back something in her eyes, and she couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.

And wrenching her gaze from the table to meet Clarke and Lexa's stares—both listening on what she'd said, both with comfort in their gazes, reassuring her that it was okay to share, Madi quietly started again. ''I loved her. E-even though she was annoying a-and bratty and mad all the time. But then one day some'un knocked on the door and she was rounded off an-and I never saw her again.''

Madi took a small, shallow breath. ''She was the first family I lost.''

Fiddling with her fingers, Madi's eyes flittered away from the table to look at Clarke and Lexa again. Their expressions were solemn, but understanding seemed to flicker from within.

She took another, gasping breath, and hoped that her tears didn't show. ''M-my brother was taken a week after. A-and then my parents planned to escape, a-and we left Polis. Back to my Mom's family at Shallow Valley.'' Quiet, her voice barely a hoarse, but she continued. ''T-two years of quiet. A-and then the Fleimkipas came.''

Lexa didn't meet Madi's eyes, as Clarke gave Madi's hand a light squeeze. She gave a low, hustled sigh. Looked up to meet both of their faces. ''A-an' I'm here now. This's where I came from.''

Another squeeze. ''C'mere, Madi,'' Clarke murmured, ever so softly, and on the verge of tears, Madi closed her eyes stumbled into Clarke's embrace, and sobbed freely because no one could see her there, no one could judge her, and the world now was nothing but inside Clarke's arms, as she wept for her family, wept for her memories, wept for something she felt but was too long away, too long gone for her to remember.

**END YEAR ONE.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the late update. Posting this chapter slipped from my mind last night—sorry about that! 
> 
> So that's the end of Year One! Let me know what you thought. Again, suggestions/critisisms are appreciated and I will take them in regard. Thanks for reading; next Chapter will begin with Year Two. :D
> 
> (Fun Fact: Maddie the Commander is a slight-reference to Code Name Verity's Maddie Brodatt. Depressing book with subtle gay ~~now where does that sound familiar~~ Pls don't read if you want to keep your sanity intact. :D
> 
>  ~~srsly though it's so good!~~ )


	15. TWO: Terrors of the Night

**YEAR TWO.**

_376 days since Praimfaya (316 days since Madi)._

''Tell me about the Maunon!'' Madi smiled eagerly, gathering up her blankets and sitting up against the bed. Waiting for Lexa's story this night.

Lexa chuckled slightly. Rested against her wheelchair. ''Not now,  _goufa_.''

Madi pouted. ''But Lexa! I want to know more about Wanheda and fighting and  _wars_ … I need to know how Clarke took the Maunon base, with the forces of a  _thousand warriors, and_ managed to  _kill_   _them_   _all_ without so much of a  _blink!''_

Lexa stopped at the Nightblood at the height of her excitement, shutting her up gravely. '' _Goufa_ , you must know—war is nothing to be celebrated. And though it may seem to be fairytales and legends now, we cannot discount war to the bare bones of its superficial, vicarious tales. War  _slaughters._ War maims and cripples and  _breaks—_ war is all too real, and yet our tales spur on the fact that it is  _good_.''

The Nightblood blinked. ''Is it not?''

''Trust me when I say it isn't. War is rarely, if  _at all_ , good. It separates our people; divides families; and causes countless deaths and injuries.'' One, deep breath, at Madi's disappointment and distress. ''I will tell you the tale, when you are older.''

_When you are more rational. When you understand that the stories of our past shouldn't be the stories of our future. When you realise that what we did to the Maunon was—nessesary, but not necessarily the best path. When you know that jus no drein jus daun._

Madi seemed slightly miffled. ''... okay then. But can you tell me something else?''

There was a pause.

Lexa smiled, as she thought of a memory pulsing in the wires of the Spirit's consciousness. ''Let me tell you of a Commander that fell from his horse...''

…

Night terrors. They were all too common.

At first they were sporadic. After Lexa had tucked in Madi and she and Clarke left to a night's hunt or a stargazing's outing, they sometimes came back to whimpers coming from Madi's room. Clarke was worried, of course, and had always insisted on checking up on Madi in her room, but Lexa reassured her that it was nothing a fitful night of sleep wouldn't cure. But they grew frequent over time, until every night, when Clarke was deep in her slumber but Lexa was wide awake in hers—the times when the prickling pain of the fire-ants crawling in her legs were too much to handle—she had heard screams come from the Natblida's bedroom.

The screams sounded around midnight, with a startled, short cry followed with whimpers, and muted sobs.

Lexa didn't intercede. There was a thin line between intrusion and comfort, and she knew that latter was usually mistaken for the former.

(And even if it broke her heart to believe it; but Madi needed to overcome her fear; her  _weakness,_ if she wanted to move forward. And she couldn't provide a guiding hand, however much she might've wanted it—for if done wrongly, despite in good-will, (and the thin line was unforgiving in its mistakes), Madi would push her away for the worse.)

And after the fifth night of constant nightmares, the Nightblood stumbled into their room. ''Lexa—'' she began hoarsely, sniffling her runny nose, her blanket draped around her shoulders, painted with wet.  _Tears._

''—c-can I sleep with you guys tonight?'' the Nightblood's eyes were stricken with fear—as if she wouldn't know what to do if Lexa said no.

Night terrors. They were all too common. Common enough that everyone Lexa knew had been touched, tormented, tortured by it—from one night to perhaps all, if the death and destruction and the need to  _survive_  that happened when they were awake wasn't enough.

The Nightblood was sniffling. Clutching at her blanket. Staring at Lexa as if she was her last hope, as her eyes fought the demons of her past.

Lexa nodded towards the Nightblood, and with her hands, moved away to create a space between her and Clarke. And without a further word, the Nightblood slipped under the blankets.

Two hours passed until the Nightblood made the next sound.

''… I still can't sleep,'' the Nightblood said, voice as hoarse—if not more than before. ''H-how do you sleep?''

_I mirror my pain into something else and count the names of the Commanders._

Grimacing at the thought, Lexa's fist tightened on the bedsheets she was holding on. It wasn't the best solution, but it was the only solution she had. ''Pick something you know how to do.'' Lexa ordered, gritting her teeth, feeling the sweat course down her neck, and at the Nightblood's srunched up features— ''say it. Out loud.''

''Okay,'' the Natblida murmured. ''Bear traps.''

''Good,  _goufa_.'' Lexa winced, and stifled a cry.  _Spirits_ , the  _pain_ … ''Now, act as if I were a beginner. Guide me through the makings of a bear trap.''

''A-alright. So first, you need the materials. Old spare parts usually work pretty well.'' Madi murmured, her tone still indicating that she wasn't sure what Lexa was getting at, but Lexa urged her on.

''How do you construct the parts, Madi?''

''First, y-you need a plate to act as a lever. That's—that's the simple bit. Then, you have to get yourself the mechanism parts. Like the till and the bridge-head and the tounge. Y-you also need to make and sharpen two jaws. And then you have to string them up all together—''

''El—elaborate, Madi. Which parts do you connect first?''

''Y-you have to first— screw on the bolts for the stock-heads.''

''G—good. And the next?''

''U-use the springs and connect them at the sides.''

''And the next?…''

…

Clarke woke up to a Natblida snuggling by her side.

Which, okay. Sure. It wasn't the usual Nightblood that (would've  _preferred_ ) to wake up next to, but that was fine. Really.

Coughing away the bile from the past night, she got up from the bed. Lexa and Madi were still soundly asleep on the bed, as Lexa murmured in her sleep while Madi grasped for something to snuggle. Suppressing a small smile, Clarke left with a bow in her hand and a quiver of arrows slung round her back, jotting down a quick note for Lexa when she woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought!


	16. Apparitions (That Shouldn't Exist)

''She's out hunting,'' Lexa said, reading off of Clarke's note. Turning back to the yawning Natblida, who had only been screaming the night before, she awaited a response.

Madi did not disappoint. Her eyes flew up to meet Lexa's, her yawning all but forgotten. Scrambling towards Lexa, she read off the note over her shoulder. Almost too eagerly.

''Can I join her?  _Pleaase_?'' Madi pleaded, eyes shining as she gazed at the note like it was some holy text, as if she wanted to shrug off the effects of last night.

''We'll go together.'' Lexa conceded, and in one heft, moved herself from bed to wheelchair. But then, her eyes landed on the weapons left on the nightstand the night eariler. ''But first…''

…

''Try it, Clarke. You'll be surprised how far you can go.''

''Lexa, stop!'' But Clarke was laughing as well, as Lexa drew the bow with her teeth. ''There's no time for this—''

''We have plenty of time, Clarke kom Skaikru. More time than we can waste.'' Lexa smiled, or as much as she could with the arrow and the string in her mouth, much to Madi's surprise and delight (because how often would someone be able to witness the Commander  _grin?)_.

''You're next, Madi,'' Lexa said after the arrow was released, to Clarke's stunned scowl and disbelief as it hit the trunk of the tree. Madi was laughing, as she went to retrieve the trick shot arrow, and then—

Madi couldn't believe what she was seeing. She felt white with shock. Madi felt like she was feeling what she would feel if she'd seen a ghost, but the ghost was more  _reality_  than  _paranormal_. And when she tried to fight off the ghost, to push the white blank silhouette from her mind, she felt the memories slam into her like a hundred tonne bricks.

_Forests. So many trees, same forests. Beating on the ground, blood thrumming in ears…_

Oh no. Oh  _nonononono_.  _Why did I come here again?!_

''Madi!'' she heard someone yell, but their voice was distant, like it was under a haze. She couldn't see; couldn't hear; couldn't do  _anything_  but reach out and feel, because all she saw was a blanket of white.

Madi swayed, and stumbled, flailing—and Clarke's horror could not even surface before the Nightblood collapsed into a heap.

…

''What happened—''

''—traumatic stress—''

''... can't help her—''

''needs to… _talk_ …''

_''…stop!''_

Madi woke in a haze.

''Madi. I'm so glad you're okay.'' Clarke. Gushing, comfort. Tears in her eyes.

''Do you feel better now,  _goufa_?'' Lexa. Silent. Solemn. But concerned.

Madi blinked out the haze from her eyes. The figures were getting clearer now. Lexa in her wheelchair and Clarke, standing by her bed. Looking over her with concern. Madi felt the sheets under her hands.  _Wait_. Weren't they out hunting just a moment ago?

Madi tried to get up. Grasping at her bedsheets. ''Wha—what happened?'' she asked, and pushed herself against the backboard of her bed. And when Lexa and Clarke exchanged looks—

''W—what happened to the hunt?''

''Later, Madi,'' Lexa said swiftly, and Clarke nodded along to her words. Madi blinked again, because how  _did_  she end up here again?

''I-I'm okay,'' Madi fumbled through the words, and her brow furrowed: because she  _was_  okay, wasn't she? And then, firmer: ''I'm okay,'' she stated, even if she didn't believe it herself.

But Clarke seemed reassured, as Lexa bit her lip. Madi blinked again, because was it just her, or did they just become more blurry? ''That's good.'' And then, softer: ''You're gonna rest, Madi, okay?''

Madi nodded, because the haze was getting stronger and she couldn't hear the words that moved Clarke's lips, not anymore. Her eyelids fluttered, she blinked one last time again, and Madi drifted off into the blurry, white light.

...

At first, there was nothing. But then, colours—orange, yellow, and black—manifested, multiplied, divided, and she's left sitting on a throne of twisted branches and metal, staring at a chanting crowd below. Their words an echo; a shout; a chorus, one the sea of black and silver chanted like an ensemble—and then the murky hearing cleared, and she listened to their chants.

_Lexa Heda has fallen._

Flames through the shrouded night. A blink and it was gone, she was back.

_Lexa Heda has fallen._

Sweeping through the villages; though Louda Killion Kru; through the forests and deserts far and wide. Two blinks and she heard the rousing crowd again.

_Osir gaf brana Heda! Osir gaf brana Heda!_

Three blinks and she saw the ensemble of Fleimkipas, rearing behind each other like an endless army of soldiers in formation and she the leader.  _Seeking a champion._

_We need a new Heda. We need a Heir._

She blinked fourth, and the murky lights and the people's cries were whisked away into white.

…

Fumbling through the leaves. That was where her hands were. In her eyes she looked up—and saw the dusk.

Legs beating against the ground. She was running. Passing the trees and her hand shielded against branches and tall stingy grass. Distant troops marched far away—but their cold steps echoed in the canopy.

A sound echoed in front of her. But it was garbled; like they were speaking from under water. Madi turned her eyes away from the dusk; and listened.

"Run, Madi! The Fleimkipas have come!"

And she was jolted back. Blood thrumming in her ears, footsteps clambering against the unforgiving nature, stifling her screams under whimpers as she struggled to catch up. Her parents ran, one lacking behind the other and Madi was further still—but neither gave up.

The Fleimkipas' steps was as loud as the roars in her ears. The echoes louder; too, too frequent.

Then, as her legs ran as quick as they could, the first figure stopped. Eyes wild with panic, darting around like a feral creature, and beckoned to her none too fast enough.

Her steps were faltering. Tiredness overwhelmed her limbs, exhaustion hung on her lungs, and her mind screamed at herself with a burst of adrenalin.  _Run, Madi! There's no time to wait!_

"Madi, quickly!" He yelled, panic in his eyes. She ran into his arms and he scooped her up, and he burst, jostling her as he ran, ran, ran as fast as he could.

Everywhere she looked, there was the forests. Flashing green by her eyes in a blur. And behind her ears rattled blood and the march of the Fleimkipas echoed all around them, and Madi felt trapped, felt too small, felt like they were going in circles.

His steps were faltering. Gazing at her panting father, she realised that he could not go any further, not with Madi in his arms. And so, as he thought the same, he quickly set Madi down, and the Fleimkipas' loud stomps came closer, their torches dancing in the golden sky.

_No no no no no._

_Too close. They're TOO CLOSE!_

''Hide!'' her mother breathed, pointing wildly at the bushes. ''Madi,  _hide!''_

Fumbling through the brambles and the leaves and then through the bushes. That was where her hands were. In her eyes she looked up—and saw the waning dusk.

Their torches danced through the forests, a sweep through the falling shadows, and there was a circle of fire surrounding her parents and Madi watched on, feverently,  _desperately_  for some miracle to happen.

'' _Do not die!_ '' was her holler that echoed through the trees and faded far too soon, far too quickly.

" _Save yourself!_ " was his last screams before his head was sliced clean off.

And so Madi heeded their words and ran like the night was chasing her until daylight came and there was nothing left, no sounds nor cries nor screams and she was left with the golden light of dawn and the red-black blood in her hands, waiting for something that never came.

…

Madi woke up, breathing hard.

_Running, running away, deep into the forests of their Kru. Somewhere they thought was once safe now compromised. And now they were the prey to a hunt._

Breathe in. Out. In. Out.

_PREY TO A HUNT._

Her eyes travelled from her bed to the window to the model abandoned on her table.  _Trebuchet, Trebuchet, Trebuchet. Remember your trebuchet?_

Steps… what were the steps again?!

_Gather medium-sized sticks. Cut up strings. Find a long stick and carve it out._

In. Out.

_Take four medium-sized sticks. Split two of them in half and connect them in a triangle. Put it on the medium stick like a flagpole. Repeat._

In. Out.

_Make the base. Take four medium-sized sticks and put them in a square. Make sure they overlap. Tie it with a lashing._

In. Out. In.  _Out_.

_Connect the two stick-flagpoles to the center of the length of the square's stick. Both flagpoles should be opposites. Then, use a small sharp object to drill a hole into a carved long stick. Push a wire through the hole and tie the ends of the wires to both flagpoles._

Burning, flickering flames dancing through the night forest like a haughty apparition. Concealing her in the bushes as the hunters rustled by.

_FIND A SLING. USE WEIGHT TO ATTACH SLING TO HOOK. PLACE AT BOTTOM END. THIS IS TO MAKE THE WEIGHT FLY LONGER._

—Her mother's screams.

Deep breaths. Madi, for Heda's sake, deep breaths.  _Close your eyes, damnit._  Think about how you're gonna go about making that trebuchet.

_FIND HEAVIER WEIGHTS FOR TOP END. THIS IS SO YOU CAN FLING THE WEIGHT INTO THE SKY._

—Her father crying for her safety.

Another deep breath.

—The Fleimkipas, charging in.

**_DEEP BREATHS!_ **

Her eyes flew open, and when her sight landed on the trebuchet, for some form of consolation,  _any form of consolation, desperately—_ but the screams and the shouts didn't recede back into her mind. Madi's eyes tore away from the model. _I can't do this. I need to go back._

_Back to where it all began._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:D
> 
> well... let me know what you thought!


	17. Wraiths of the Present

Madi had returned to her cave, after dusk.

It was terrible, terrible timing, because dusk meant that it would be night soon, and Madi had, quite frankly,  _terrible_  night-vision. But she wanted to go back, to at least to gather her stuff and to give herself a small pep talk—if she could survive 58 days of nightmares in  _this_  cave with no one but her own brain for comfort, then she could do better now with Lexa and Clarke by her side.

But she was not alone.

It was loud, bellowing breathing that gave the perpetrator away. As if they weren't even trying to hide. Which meant it was a predator.

_Crap! It's a bear!_

Stunned at the sound, Madi stumbled backward and away until she saw a glimpse of the perpetrator's feral, wide eyes, aided by a beam of light.

And that was when she realised— It wasn't a bear. It was human.

''Who are you?'' Madi said hastily, eyes darting around the figure in the cave. They were breathing hard—they were obviously injured. But it doesn't mean that they were completely harmless.

''Carl. M'name's Carl.'' Heavy,  _heavy_ breathing. They had to be injured  _bad._ ''And yours?''

''Madi.'' Her name slipped from her tongue. ''My name's Madi.''

''G-good. Madi.'' Another hoarse cough. ''Don't tell anyone I was here, okay?''

''Okay.'' Then, a frown passed her features. ''Why not?''

It was obvious that Carl was heavily injured. He needed help, or he would die. Madi could help. Clarke could help. Lexa could help. So why didn't he want to tell anyone he was dying in a cave?

''J-just… paranoia and a bad feeling,'' came the stuttered out response. Madi's frown persisted because that  _really_  didn't explain much, but her mind forced herself back to reality.

_Right_. Injured man. Needs help or dies. Can't care too much about motivations or reasons or whatever now.  _Just save him_.

What was the sentence Clarke liked to say again?  _Save who you can save._

Okay. Madi took in a breath. She was most definitely  _not_  prepared for this (why, oh why wasn't Clarke here instead?), but she could at least  _try_. What was the worst thing that could happen anyway?

_Blood on your hands and a lifetime of regret._

She sucked in a breath. Oh boy.  _Right, Madi. So you better not mess up, then._

Okay. Just start with something simple. ''What's wrong with you?''

Carl laughed, almost hollowly, until he broke into a fitful of coughs. Madi saw warm spit land near the cave entrance.  _Blood_. He's coughing up  _blood_.

Okay. So something was  _really_  wrong with him. Fever? Cold? Injury? Virus? Something? Anything?

''R-radiation sicknesses,'' Carl said, as if reading her mind.

Madi stuttered out words, but almost all of them was a mumble. ''But… aren't you a Nightblood? You can't be sick if you're a…''

''Synthetic,'' was all Carl responded with, and Madi's frown deepened, because what in the Spirits did  _that_ word mean? And as if senseng her confusion, Carl elaborated: ''S-sick before.''

Okay. That still didn't explain things. But whatever. Right?

''Umm… okay.'' Madi murmured, still frowning. ''How can I help?''

''G-get me… a cloth. Water. Food.  _Please…''_

Carl barely finished his sentence before Madi was rushing into the forests, going straight back to Shallow Valley for everything he needed.

…

''Madi—are you alright?'' Clarke asked worriedly once Madi had returned to the abode in a rush. One of her arms was caught by Clarke—and Madi looked up to meet Clarke's furrowed brow. ''Madi?'' Clarke asked softly, her eyes boring into Madi's soul.

And then, Madi realised that Clarke had been talking about what had happened during the hunt. Her own brow furrowed, as the images flashed by her mind— _the blur of forests, the midnight dance of torches, a rousing crowd that chanted for a Heda's fall—_ but a moment later, it was gone.

She had paused, for a moment or two, blinking back the memories, which apparently had worried Clarke even more. ''If you want—'' Clarke began, both hands clutching Madi's loosely, ''— you can rest for today. Don't worry about anything?''

She did. Madi wanted nothing more than to rest and forget about the  _memories_  that raged in her mind. So blurred, so unclear, but the screams were the sounds that she heard the most. But her mind turned back to the dying man in the cave, and everything else cleared from there.

Clarke was still talking. ''No one would blame you. Me and Lexa—we'll take over. And hey—'' Clarke's lips quirked in a smile. ''— maybe we can work on your trebuchet, yeah?''

And at this, Madi squeezed her eyes shut _. No. Not the trebuchet. Not right now. F-from there, the memories'll surge…_

She felt Clarke's warm hands hold her palms. Like she wouldn't ever let go, not if she could. Like she didn't want her facing her memories alone.

Madi felt herself soften. She wanted so badly to accept the offer, to curl up in her bed and work on some mechanism that didn't bring back memories with Clarke and Lexa by her side. But… but this wasn't about  _her_  anymore. It was about the dying man in the cave, that  _needed_  her help  _so bad._

Opening her eyes, meeting Clarke's desperate ones, she gave one hard shake of her head. ''No, Clarke,'' she said, closing her eyes so she couldn't see the tears in her eyes. And then, Madi shook free from Clarke's hands, and gave her a small grin, with as much conviction as she could. ''I gotta—''

''Whatever it is, I can do it with you,'' Clarke rushed on, surprising Madi. And at Madi's surprise, Clarke gave a small sigh, and looked at Madi sadly. ''It's just… we don't want you facing this alone, Madi. We can help. Lexa and I. We've gotten to face a lot of demons, too,'' she said, a ghost of a sad smile on her lips. ''We-we can help, Madi.''

Madi's eyes flittered to the wooden floorboards. Her heart throbbed for her to say  _yes,_ to agree and to be brought to a place where there weren't any demons or ghosts anymore… but she couldn't indulge herself in dreams, not right now, not when there was the present to worry about and a person dying in a cave.

She blinked back something in her eyes, and looked up to Clarke. ''I gotta go,'' she mumbled half-heartedly and stumbled across the room. Clarke seemed slightly hurt, but it had soon reverted back into normal as she looked down, and that made Madi feel terrible.

_Quickly, Madi. Take 'em and go. Talk—talk to Clarke later, okay?_

Then, as she began to gather the things that a dying man would need—a bandage, gauze, something comfortable to sit on, and the inexplicable firewood— ''Why the resources?'' Clarke said curiously, as she watched Madi's unusual attempt at gathering everything she could in her arms.

''Nothin''' Madi muttered, trying to juggle food, water, and bandages all in one. ''J—just… I trapped a small dog in m-my bear traps and I want to set him free. Y'know.''

And exactly after Madi had said it, she cursed.  _Bear traps? Small dogs? Really Madi, great lying skills._

Huh. It was unusual all right, but Clarke didn't question it. Though she appeared slightly confused, she nodded, slightly, in approval. ''Okay, then.'' she said, voice quiet and hoarse. ''Go ahead, Madi.''

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) So... the plot thickens... 
> 
> Let me know what you thought ^^


	18. Reapings Fruits for the Living-Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the Moms are concerned and Madi stares at a biscuit. No, really.

''Lexa… we need to talk about Madi,'' Clarke said, as she shut the door to their room.

''Is something wrong?'' Lexa asked, wheeling about to face Clarke. She seemed visibly concerned, as if she were worried about Madi. Lexa had a good idea of what the topic would be about—of Madi's constant, near-frequent nightmares, and the event that had happened during their hunt. And although she was reluctant to talk about either, she knew it was a topic they both had to discuss.

Clarke swallowed, once. ''… yeah,'' she admitted, looking at Lexa in the eye. ''We've—we've got to help her, Lexa.  _Somehow_ ,'' she said, gaze still trained intently on Lexa. ''Maybe go out hunting, spear-fishing, _I don't know_. J-just something therapeutic t-that doesn't trigger…''

''Clarke,'' Lexa began, softly. ''We do not know Madi's triggers. And I believe  _testing_  is not the way to go about it.''

Clarke ran her fingers in her hair, and paced around the room in slight frustration. ''Yes, but—'' and then she stopped pacing, looked at Lexa. ''— we've got to  _do_   _something_  about it.''

Lexa nodded for Clarke to continue. And then, quieter, Clarke said: ''Madi's got a lot of baggage. Trauma and  _memories_ and nightmares that—that she needs to unpack. And—'' a small, low breath. ''— I don't think she's improving. It's getting worse.''

Lexa cocked her head at the statement, prompting Clarke to continue. ''Lexa… she fainted while we were hunting just a day ago. That's bad enough by itself. When I asked her if she wanted to work on the trebuchet today, she refused. She—she doesn't want to talk to me about it. Which-which is fine, but it's just that—she's never refused before. A-and now she's going off on her own, talking about finding  _dogs_  in bear traps, doing something  _god knows where…_ I-I just…'' A sigh. ''I'm concerned.''

A small sigh came from Lexa. ''Perhaps it was only a bad day, Clarke.'' Lexa stated, returning Clarke's glance. ''Like mine. She may have hit a rough patch, or perhaps it is around this time and month that her memories are prevalent?''

''She  _collapsed_  in the woods, Lexa. That  _doesn't_  happen in bad days—'' and before Lexa could refute, ''—and even if it does, it's not like we should sit around and pretend like it never happened. Because it did.''

''We are  _not_  pretending that it never happened,'' Lexa stated firmly. ''All I am saying is that we should wait for some time to pass, before confronting Madi about it. She deserves some time to herself. We do not need to make her feel worse.''

''And we  _have_  to be sensitive about it,'' Clarke added. ''We don't need to be a cause for another incident.''

Lexa nodded, looking at Clarke square in the eyes. ''That is a given.'' she said simply. And then, quieter: ''Memories—they don't just pass, Clarke,'' Lexa murmured. ''Wounds become bearable with time. Her wounds are still fresh, raw, Clarke. She is only eight years old—her parents had only died two years ago, her sister and brother four. W-we should be surprised if she  _didn't_  have such memories.''

''Can't we make it more bearable for her?'' Clarke said, her eyes pleading. ''Tell her she isn't alone.''

And at this, the ghost of a sad smile grazed Lexa's lips. ''She isn't, Clarke. She knows that.''

Clarke sighed. ''I'm… just worried she'll  _forget_ , is all.''

''She won't.'' Lexa stated. And then, firmer: ''She won't.''

...

The man was still coughing when Madi returned with bandages, food, water and a damp cloth.

''H-here,'' Madi said shakily as she shuffled into the cave, as she put down the supplies she cradled in her arms, and pushed the load towards the man.

''T-thank… you…'' was all he managed to cough out before grasping at the supplies greedily, shuddering as he took the bottle of water and the food, and unscrewing the cap, in an instant downing the water as his withered fingers tightened against the ration packet Madi gave him, as if it was some sort of treasure, a prize.

Madi had watched, almost in a trance, as she watched the man drink and cough, grasp the ration packet, cough and drink again like it was some sort of weird, otherworldly cycle that she just couldn't tear her eyes away from.

''You… are you better now?'' Madi asked hesitantly. And when the man nodded furiously, once, twice as he stuffed the biscuit in his mouth, crumbs spurting across everywhere and landing his body as he tried to speak, Madi felt slightly more relieved.

At least he didn't seem like he was dying now.

And Madi watched, only a few feet away from the man, as she watched the water-drinking cycle repeat itself, but with a biscuit instead. It wasn't unusual to see a man that ravenous—heck, Madi had seen quite a few in her lifetime, in Louwoda Kliron Kru, but never had she really bothered to, well, take more than a glance at them before scurrying away. But for some reason, it was weirdly entrancing to watch.

 _Okay, Madi, stop watching the kinda-dead man relish his biscuit. It's not really polite._ So, with a breath, she asked: ''D-do you need bandages or…?''

The man shook his head as he gobbled up the biscuit. ''N-no,'' he said in his mouthful, before refocusing on his eating. ''L-later.''

Madi hoped that he wouldn't accidentally choke himself or cough while he was eating. Both seemed like worst-case scenarios, included a cause of a very unpleasant death, and would be very strenuous to deal with.

''H-how did you survive?'' Madi ventured, slightly, after the man had swallowed most of the biscuit. (She really didn't need either choking or coughing happening while the man was savouring his biscuit.) And Carl gave a feral grin, and said, among the leftover biscuit crumbs:

''I-I could—'' A thick tirade of coughs overcame the man, ''—s-say the same… for you.''

Madi gazed downwards, her eyes meeting the cave floors. And then a moment later, she perked up. ''D'you wanna share stories?  _Survival_  stories?''

Carl stared at her, open-mouthed in surprise. Even as Madi smiled at him and waited patiently for a response. A few biscuit crumbs hung from his mouth as he worked his jaw for an answer. ''… sure.''

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought! :'D Especially about Carl. Yes, would definitely want to know what you feel about Carl. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	19. Pasts That Haunt

_Afternoon._

''Wait—did you seriously go  _all the way_  from Sangedakru t-to go  _here_? To Shallow Valley?!'' Madi said incredelously, staring at Carl in disbelief.

Carl chuckled. ''Yes, I did.'' he stated, taking in Madi's disbelieving expression. ''Rather the arduous journey, don't you think? I'm not even sure if I want to remember it now.'' he admitted.

''How-why were you even  _in_  Sangedakru in first place?! I didn't even know Sangedakru had _Nightbloods_! Wait, what Kru were _you_ from again!?'' Madi exclaimed, disbelief still apparent in her features, as Carl averted his eyes away from her expression at the mention of _Kru_. But it had went unnoticed in Madi's eyes. ''A-and how'd you go all the way here?! Without food a-and or water? And  _sick?''_ she asked, piping her curiosity.

Carl still chuckled at this, but the corners of his smile had dropped, and he shook his head. ''That's a long story, Madi,'' he said as he stretched his back, lifting his head so Madi couldn't see his slight frown, at the memories that had bombarded his mind. ''I'm not sure if I can tell you that.''

''Aw, c'mon!'' Madi said in excitement, as Carl's expression went unnoticed. ''I'll go first—I'll tell you mine! And you'll tell me yours later! The  _entire_  thing!''

''That—that's quite alright, Madi,'' Carl said, but at the immediate droop of Madi's expression, he had felt slightly terrible, similar to how he felt when the perked-up Madi had asked if they could share survival stories and  _no_ was on the tip of his tongue, and so he tried again: ''How-how about I hear yours, and maybe you can hear mine later?''

 _By later, I mean never._ But Madi's excitement was far too visible for Carl to ignore, so he stifled a chuckle, and nodded to the Nightblood. ''Would you like to begin?''

…

_391 days since Praimfaya (331 days since Madi)._

Carl was getting better, Madi could tell.

For starters, he stopped coughing. And he grew a lot more energetic than when Madi first found him—at least, energetic enough to start hunting and gathering.

It had been around two weeks since Madi had first found Carl. Ever since, she had visited him weekly, sometimes coming for surprise visits whenever she was bored and whenever Clarke and Lexa had gone all… yearning over each other, side-eyeing and touching each other when they thought Madi didn't notice, and made a lot of seemingly-unrelated remarks that had definitely  _didn't_  go over Madi's head.

(After all, she  _was_  raised in Polis, and then Louwoda Kilion Kru, where everyone liked to be as obvious as possible—and most especially, Madi had her parents to thank for her discretion. Which was a memory she really wished would just go away.)

So here she was now, escaping one of those aforementioned…  _sessions_ , giving Clarke and Lexa some  _alone_  time while she picked berries with Carl.

''Can you tell me any stories?'' Madi asked eagerly, while they were picking berries. Berries were usually scarce; however, they seemed prominent where Carl lived, northeast of Shallow Valley. She would have to remember that if their food ever became too scarce. However, the task of picking berries were  _boring._ Madi had gotten over the joy of it a long time ago, and was now impatiently waiting for Carl to catch up.

''Huh. Stories…'' Carl murmured. He was still picking berries, but his eyes seemed faraway. And then he was jolted back; his eyes filled with something she hadn't seen on there before and stared at Madi with an intensity that almost made her wince.

''Nevermind.'' Madi mumbled, as she looked away from Carl and took a few steps back. But Carl shook his head vehemently, looked at Madi with…  _something_ , and put the berries down.

''I need to tell you this story, Madi.'' His voice was low, gravelly, as if he was saying a vicious secret. ''Have you heard of the people whom lived in Mount Weather?'' And at Madi's bewildered blink—Carl said the last two descriptors in vehemence: ''Mountain Men?  _Maunon_?''

Madi nodded, inexplicably. Took another step back from Carl—because what made him so angry, so quickly? She said something wrong. It had to be the stories. ''I'm sorry about—''

Carl nearly spat his next words out. ''I am their last survivor.''

Madi blinked. Once, twice, and she could've said anything—oh she could've said  _anything—_ but the only thing that crossed her mind was Wanheda.  _Wanheda the Maunon Slayer._

''But didn't Clar—didn't Wanheda kill you all?'' And Madi nearly cringed at the terrible choice of words, because  _really_ , she didn't mean for it to come out that way—and if anything, the enraged Carl was even more enraged at her words— but he looked at Madi's palms turned up in a gesture of peace—and the rage settled, revealing something tinged with sadness, and… nostalgia?

''There are legends, aren't there?'' Carl smiled bitterly, ruefully, gazing at Madi for a response to a rhetoric they both knew.

Madi didn't respond, but her eyes flittered nervously from Carl to the ground. ''Aren't you the… bad guys? They said you slaughtered. Killed our people. Massacred villages.''

_Until Clarke put them down._

''They make it seem like I'm the bad guy,'' Carl chuckled, and he looked Madi in the eye. ''But tell me, Madi: do you see me as a bad guy? Even after learning that I am a Mountain Man?''

Slowly, Madi shook her head. ''No,'' she murmured quietly. She knew of the crimes the Maunon committed: needless murder, the slaughter of the innocent, of the elders and the children, killing for their people… but Carl wasn't a fanatic, senseless serial killer. How could he be, when he acted more than just…  _that?_ When he told stories about survival and chuckled along as Madi described the process-making of bear traps and trebuchets, and was not a monster like the tales had described, but so, so clearly... _human_?

Carl wasn't  _them_.

As if reading her mind, Carl sighed. ''We all have our own people to serve, Madi. And my people lost, which is why we'll always be on the wrong side of the tale.'' At this, Madi met Carl's eyes. ''We clashed, we lost, and it was decided that your people were just more important than mine,'' he nearly spat. ''And because of that, I'm the last of my species.''

Madi was quiet. ''Do you think—do you think what you were doing… was right?''

Carl sighed. Glanced at Madi with an emotion she couldn't decipher. Something she couldn't understand. ''We were doing what we needed to survive.''

''… but we don't have to be it anymore, do we?'' Madi said aloud, and that made Carl's glance jolt towards her. ''Grounder and Maunon? W-we don't need to k-keep that barrier between us anymore, n-not after Praimfaya… do we?'' she said, doubtfully.

Carl didn't answer, but stared back in the forests in the Valley.

…

_Night._

''Lexa... can you tell me about the Maunon, now?'' Madi asked, only a hint of nervousness in her voice as she fidgeted under her bedsheets and settled into the night.

''Madi...'' Lexa warned, her voice low, dangerous—

''—I understand now.'' Madi blurted in. ''I know that war isn't something we want. But all I want to hear is a story, Lexa.''

 _A story which she could learn from._ Giving in with a low, quiet sigh, as Madi's curiosity perked, Lexa took a slow breath, and recalled the memories. ''We called them the Mountain Men. The Maunon, as you would know. They had technology far advanced from us, and used them as agents of control...''

''Control? Why?''

''Think of them as a Heda, Madi. Someone who has control over everything, and wants nothing but  _more_  control.'' And this, a sigh. ''All in the name for their people.''

Madi frowned. ''But Hedas are  _good_. Aren't doing things for our  _people_  good? Why did we hate them for it?''

Lexa smiled, ruefully. ''Because  _their people_  didn't equal  _our people_ , Madi.''

Madi was silent after that.

''… so, were we doing the right thing?''

''… what?'' Lexa blinked at the Nightblood, once, twice, as she surveyed the expression that had coloured Madi's tone.

''Were we doing the right thing, Lexa?'' Madi asked forcefully. No emotion coloured her tone—not once anger or disbelief or fear. It was just a question. One she wished for an answer to.

Lexa's eyes flittered away from Madi's gaze. ''We were doing the right thing for our people.'' A whisked breath. ''I cannot say the same for the whole of us.''

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think? I'd like to hear your thoughts about the Grounder and the Maunon—especially with regards about their pasts. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and let me know what you thought! :D
> 
> (On another note: I have posted a missing scene in this universe which is called [Of Forgotten Repercussions (And Arduous Lives)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15803913), that details 5 of Lexa's visitors after she was shot by Titus - have Aden posted so far. Check it out if you'd like! Please be careful though, there are discussions/mentions of suicide).


	20. Unwritten Histories

_406 days since Praimfaya (346 days since Madi)._

''—and so with a gasp, he fell into a ditch!'' And at Carl's chuckle, Madi glanced at him in disbelief, but then began to grin. ''I know! Really, when I first heard it, I know I  _shouldn't_  laugh… but he ended up becoming a great Commander! Not the greatest, of course, but still great. Your turn!'' Madi grinned.

Carl scratched the back of his head, as with his wrist he twisted the fish around in the fire. Madi gaped at the casual action (because  _how_  did he do that without the stick snapping?), but then she looked back up at him. ''C'mon, Carl! Tell me another!'' She laughed, grinning at the fire. Carl sat on the opposite end on the rock, as he contemplated her question, ever so often twisting the fish he had on the stick basking in the fire. Embers flickered above, and for once, the cold dark cave felt alight.

Carl smiled, ruefully, and picked at his fish. ''Oh, I don't have much, really.'' His mind flew past the stories he had, but with a jolt, he realised there were no good ones left. All he had was ones with  _Grounders_ , ones with  _his people…_ and he couldn't go there. Not yet.

But Madi was staring at him eagerly, looking at him for another story. Her eyes shone in the fire. Carl's gaze flickered away from the crackling fire. Bit his lip. ''I… I had a brother, once. And two children.''

Madi looked at him, concerned. ''What happened to them?''

''They died.''

Oh.  _Oh_. ''I'm really sorry about them,'' Madi murmured, eyes flittering away from the fire to the night outside. Feeling the warmth of the flame embrace her. ''Are… are you okay?''

Carl shook his head, oblivious to her question. ''Don't be. It's not your fault,'' and then, the mirrors in his eyes darkened, likened to the dancing flame in the pit. ''It was  _theirs_. The  _Grounders_.''

Disbelief clouded Madi's mind.  _The Grounders,_ the words on Carl's lips, the contempt it kept, swirled in her mind.  _The Grounders._ A growl, not nearly a sound, but the expression burned itself in her head.  _The Grounders._  Said like a curse.

Carl still hated them for it?

_Of course he did. Of course he did. How could he forget?_

''But I  _am_  a Grounder,'' Madi burst out, emotion in her lungs and eyes. ''I  _am_  a Grounder. So…'' And Madi blinked, a glance away, _the Grounders the Grounders the Grounders_  echoing in her mind. Her legs, her fingers, all felt tense. ''You hate me for it?''

Surprise surfaced on Carl's expression, and Madi expected  _anger_ , expected rage, expec _t yes he did_ , expected  _get out of here Madi NOW,_ but that, the emotion in his face, in his head, settled. Something quiet came out of his lips. ''You're not them, Madi.'' A glance, a flitter away from her face. ''And that's because you don't understand.''

Madi blinked, once, twice at his words.  _What did he mean that I didn't understand?_

''I do understand.'' Madi blurted out, and Carl looked at her with a flurry of emotions. Surprise… confusion? ''I... I had a family once. Had a  _sister_.'' she said, forcefully. And then the memories ploughed her, memories of her  _mother_  and  _father_  and brother and  _sister… damnit, why was it so hard to forget?_

Carl didn't ask, but nodded. ''I'm sorry,'' he offered, and Madi flickered her eyes away, feeling the memories weigh in her brain, remembered the shouts and their cries and  _their game… Spirits,_ Madi felt the tears filling the corners of her eyes, but never enough, never enough to fall.

''What was her name?'' Carl asked, breaking her out of her haze. And as Madi grasped at her memories, she looked at Carl, bit her lip, gazed up from the cave to the lunar night.  _No, I need to forget._  ''... Can't tell you that.''

She expected Carl to be surprised again, but instead, when her gaze flickered back, she saw him nod. ''That's okay. I understand.''

Madi turned her face away from the warmth to the dark, feeling the heat bask in her neck, and then she remembered the night.  _Lexa and Clarke._

''… I should go now.'' Madi murmured, her eyes flickering away, to Carl. Then back again, into the dark night. Gathering up her things, her weapons, the empty stick on her hand, dressed with the bare, pale pink remains of fish. Stood. ''I should go.''

Carl's eyes jolted to hers. Surprise coloured his face, again. ''To where? It's dangerous in the night.'' He shook his head, prepared to get up as well. ''Especially for a kid like you.''

Madi thought of Lexa and Clarke.  _The Grounders the grounders the GROUNDERS._  Shook her head. They would worry, probably worried enough already, and she couldn't stay with him. ''I have a place,'' she supplied. Gathered her gear, glanced at the standing figure, stopped, the stick still in hand. ''Goodnight, Carl!''

Carl glanced at her, his expression shadowed by the fire. He lifted a hand, but it dropped to his side again. A silent gesture came his words. ''Goodnight to you too, Madi.''

And then she was gone, and Carl was left contemplating the flames in the campfire.

…

''Why was the Maunon so hated?'' Madi murmured the question, as she scanned the morning forests for a sight or a sound. Nothing, not so much a chirp or a cricket. Even if it was the time of life. And she turned back to Clarke, and saw her contemplating.

Clarke's wistful stare caused Madi to startle. ''They planned to harvest our people.'' Clarke muttered, staring up in the sky. ''Planned to take our blood, take our bone marrow. To heal them,'' she said, and Madi expected a spit, but there was nothing of that in her tone or her eyes. Only wistfulness, and regret.

Regret?

Madi looked up at Clarke, her eyes wide. Clarke's eyes flickered away from hers, and stared onlooking the forest, betraying nothing, not even an emotion or a gaze.

The next she spoke, her voice came out quiet, small.  _He never said anything about this._ ''Why did they need to harvest us?''

''To save them.'' A sigh, infinitely small, and Clarke looked back, as she looked at Madi in the eyes. ''To save their lives. At the expense of ours.''

''Can't…'' and at this Madi stared up at Clarke, hope, raw and new, glistening in her eyes. ''… why couldn't we both exist? Together?''

''Because they knew we couldn't coexist with them.'' Another stare into the forests. ''And so they took control of  _us_. Used an acid fog to keep us in place. Took our people, drained them of resource 'till they were dead.'' Clarke choked. ''Tortured Lexa's best, and turned them into  _Ripas_. All so they could go outside. Until—'' another choke. ''—until we stopped them.'' Something hoarse uttered from Clarke's throat, and then she gazed at Madi sadly, as she swallowed the bile that stuck there. ''Could you blame us, for not wanting to live with  _them_?''

Madi's gaze flickered away from Clarke's, into the forests.  _It was a war,_  she realised. One unstoppable between the Grounder and Maunon. And so, if it was a choice of life… then it was obvious which one Clarke chose.

Then, as their gazes reverted away, there was a rustle. A chirrup. Somewhere near them, in the forests.

Clarke beckoned to Madi, unsheathed a dagger with a nod. ''C'mon, Madi. Looks like we've found our hunt.''

…

''If-If there were survivors, would you-you want to meet them?'' Madi asked, her voice laced with tension, as she gazed at Carl nervously for an answer. Even if she didn't like the question at all, even if she didn't know how he'd react—she  _needed_ to know.

Carl had paused, for a few moments, until he spoke. ''I met you, haven't I, Madi?'' Carl said, bitterly, ruefully, and he readjusted his posture, his arms leaning on his knees, his eyes illuminating the fire beneath. He seemed wistful, saddened. ''If—if there were survivors, then—I can't believe I'm saying this—but I suppose—I suppose if there were others, I—I  _still_  can't believe I'm saying this, but I wouldn't mind. As long as they aren't…'' and at this, he trailed off, and Madi had to crane her ears to hear the next word. ''Responsible.''

 _Responsible? Responsible for what?_ Madi's brow furrowed and glanced at Carl, but he didn't elaborate. Instead, he took one long breath, and his eyes, travelling away from the fire, met hers.  _''This… this is now,_ and I-I think that's different. I hope—and you've proven me right so far. You're one of the good ones, Madi.'' he said, and he took a faraway glance away from Madi.

Then, quietly, she murmured, without expecting an answer: ''If—if there were  _others_ out there… d'you think… you could join—them? Be with a Kru?''

Carl's eyes flickered away from Madi's. ''We could. But I don't see possibly how.''

He wouldn't meet her eyes then, and when she caught a gaze it was lost, faraway, wistful. As if he was remembering about a past that was once the present then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought! Especially about the conflict of the Grounders/Maunon, and which side was right & why. Thanks for reading! <3


	21. Deaf Cries

_421 days since Praimfaya (361 days since Madi)._

''D'you do all this alone?'' Carl said, his eyes twinkling with some form of life as he watched Madi shoot down a bird. Shook his head. ''I'm amazed.''

Madi smiled eagerly at his compliment but shook her head. Thought about her conversation before; and she mustered the will she had in her heart, and stated: ''No, I don't do it alone. I have friends.''

Carl furrowed an eyebrow at that. ''Friends? Really?''

A superficial grin crossed her face. ''Oh! Their names are Clarke'n Lexa. They gave me shelter and food. You should really come by sometime. I'm sure they won't mind meeting you!''

It was a while until Carl commented. ''That's nice.'' he muttered, but for some reason, it felt  _off._ As if he was talking to himself than Madi. Then, clearing his throat: ''I think I'd hit you up on that offer, Madi. Have you got a map?''

Madi shook her head, but clenched at the map in her pocket. Uneasiness began to crawl up her throat. For some reason, Carl felt to…  _change_ after Madi talked about Clarke and Lexa. And it wasn't a good type of change, either.

Because, and suddenly she felt bile grow in her throat, Clarke and Lexa were  _her_  people—in Carl's words, the people that opposed  _his. The very ones that had his people killed. The Commander, the one who sounded the command. Wanheda, the one who pulled the lever._

And Madi felt sick to the stomach, and regretted thinking that they could put their pasts behind themselves and create a new  _Kru_. One where histories didn't matter and all of them acted as one. Because  _oh_   _Spirits_ , how could she think that when Lexa talked of the Maunon with vehemence in her eyes and Clarke didn't even want to talk about it at all and Carl saw nothing but hate, right here, right now?

''I'll bring you there sometime later,'' she said, voice almost hoarse. For what had she just done?  _Clarke… Lexa… Carl…_   _oh Spirits, Madi, stupid! Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

''Can't you do that now?'' Carl snapped. His forcefulness surprised Madi, and though it wasn't unwarranted, she drew a few steps back. Carl seemed to tower over her, as if ready to force the answer out of her—until he shrunk back into himself.

Madi blinked, once, twice.  _What?_

''Sorry, Madi,'' Carl apologised, as Madi blinked at him, unsure what to feel. ''I—I'm just excited that there were survivors, is all.''

Madi felt trepidatious, but let it pass. Perhaps, like Carl said, he  _was_ excited about there being people alive other than himself. But, how could he be, when those people he was excited about was the same people that killed  _his_  in the first place?

''I'll catch up on you soon,'' Madi said, crumpling the map further in her pocket with one hand, the other hand in a wave. Gnawing discomfort ate at her throat and stomach and heart, but she let it pass. Grasping her waving hand in a fist. ''Bye now. See you soon!''

She said it like she meant it, but she wishes she never meant anything at all. Because she did it, she'd  _gone_  and  _done_   _it_  without using her head, and she would be stupid if she believed there wouldn't be  _strife_ , wouldn't be  _hate,_  wouldn't be  _war_.

…

_3 DAYS LATER…_

They had been hunting. Just a moment ago Clarke was joking with Lexa, as Madi watched on— then they spotted a moose and they split up, with the intent of surrounding it and going for the kill— and the next, Lexa was gone, with no trace of where she might've went.

Worry passed Clarke for a moment, before it was gone. She might've been distracted, Clarke thought, though the occasion that Lexa Heda was ever distracted was close to zero. And then it intensified after Clarke made the shot, and the mutant moose was gone, and there was still no sign of Lexa.

The confusion in Madi’s features reflected what Clarke felt in her heart. She didn't speak, for she didn't want to worry Madi further and she was agitated enough herself, and so she held Madi close by the hand, as she pushed past the bushes and the brambles and felt her head hammer in her heart.

There was a rustle, and she saw a blur of black amid the forests, but with a blink it was gone. Clarke's heart jumped to her throat; and she gripped her hold on Madi. 

_ No. This can't be. _

There was nothing. Nothing, nothing, not even the sound of a scream or the chirps of the birds or the croaks of crickets. There was only Madi, clutching at Clarke's sleeve in apprehension, seemingly just as confused with the forest's deathly silence. A shadow passed by as if to taunt her, but after a blink, it was gone.

Clarke took a shuddery breath, and stumbled towards where the shadow once was. And when she did, and faced the weathered oak tree amid the darkening forest, she found a piece of technology, abandoned by the trees, worn with nature and time. Frowning, she disentangled it from the poison ivy and wiped away the dirt. What she saw was unmistakable.

A respirator.

 _No._ Memories of the Maunon overwhelmed her, memories of the Reapers, memories of  _Carl Emerson, Mount Weather Security Detail_. _Nonononono…_

''Lexa?'' Clarke screamed until her voice was hoarse from the pain, but even then she screamed some more. Because  _no_ , it wasn't possible, and _couldn't be_.

_He's dead. He's deadhe'sdeadhe'sDEAD! He's **NOT** here, he can't **BE**  here, he's DEADdeadDEAD._

But it was. More apparent than ever; the white matted with moss shook in her hand, and down it fell, cracking in half when it hit the beaten ground. Madi looked at her in horror; but Clarke wasn't there anymore.

She wasn't there.

And all Madi heard was one, hoarse scream. Torn from her throat, ripped from her breath, whisked away into the black, black wind like she was screaming for a ghost that was no more. '' _Lexa_!''

…

''Clarke!'' Lexa yelled, her head light from the fall. Her fingers hanging by a thread on the rocky cliff, the wheelchair swallowed by the ditch when it hit rock-bottom. Above her left the remains of a well-placed trap, one she recognised far too late.

It was supposed to be a simple hunt. Finding moose and isolating one from the herd, signalling for them to surround it until the final spear struck. But she had strayed too far; found a _clearing_ that that had grass surrounded by wide-open trees, a moose's perfect grazing spot. She had went, deciding against telling Clarke or Madi about it, for they were already stalking a moose, and in fear that she'd alert the prey she didn't say a word nor a yell—but before she knew it, she was falling. 

''Clarke, I'm here!  _Clarke!''_

 _No, Lexa. Stop wasting your breath._ Lexa blinked. Anya's words circled in her head, as if her brain decided that  _this_  was the best time for nostalgia.

But it wasn't nostalgia. It was  _memories_.

They were at camp, a step into the unmarked territories of Trikru. She was a child then, not even the age of ten, when the Maunon came and Lexa and Anya was forced to go their separate ways. She had triggered, and fallen into one of the Mountain Men's traps, and broke her leg then. Lexa had cried, until she realised that no one was saving her.

_The only person that can save you is yourself._

She tried to push herself up. She made it about halfway until her hands shook, going as far as they could, her waist reaching the cliff outcrop, but her legs hung beneath her, immobile, despite the screams in her head telling it to  _move,_ telling it to  _swing itself up,_ telling it to do  _something_ ,  _anything_ , and she realised what she was trying to do wasn't possible.

_You've fought a thousand battles. You've lead leagues to war. But how can you not manage to save yourself from a ditch?_

Lexa closed her eyes. Beneath her was the ditch of mud submerged in a thin lining of water. Her head hammered with pain, and it took all her willpower not to free her hands from the outcrop and to let go. Even without sight, she felt dizzy. The dead weight of her legs hanging like an anchor sapped so much strength from her hands. If only she could let go…

_No! I cannot let go. And I cannot fall unconscious._

But that wasn't tangible. Her head pounded with blood and her ears basked in its roar and her mouth tasted metallic, and her fingers threatened to rip themselves apart from the sheer strain she put it in for twenty minutes and more.

 _What do you do when you get into an emergency situation?_ Anya's voice came back, stern and commanding once again.

_Once I fall, I have to assess the situation, and pick up the pieces. That's what Anya taught, wasn't it? I cannot die here, not when Clarke's still out there…_

Her fingers slipped an inch more. And then even more so. She forced her eyes open, and with one bracing breath, let go.

She waited for the jarring fall to rock-bottom. Waited for the pain to shoot up her spine and the upper half of her body. Waited for—what was possibly—even more damage to come.

But the fall came short. The pain didn't come.

Breathing intensified as she took in her surroundings, she gazed upwards. The rock-face she hung upon was above her, but only by a few meters. Tensely, she looked downwards. Her legs were entangled in an outcropping brush. She almost laughed if not for her dry throat. She'd have to assess the damage and injuries, later when she could. But not now.

Then, she heard a rustle. And another one after that,  _louder_ still. She saw a shadow dash among the trees, among the bushes, before disappearing entirely.

There was no mistake. There was something there.

''Madi?'' Lexa said, but it was barely a whisper. And then, louder: ''Madi, is that you?''

There was nothing, and—

A shadow loomed over her, and Lexa almost breathed in a choke of relief. ''Madi. Thank the Spirits it's you. Go get Clarke. Tell her I'm here. Tell her to take a rope from the truck, we'll need to retrieve—''

But when she looked up again, the shadow was gone.

Two minutes passed. And then, four. Then six and eight and ten, and Lexa wondered if she was seeing shapes from her throbbing head. Already she saw double, and her head felt so light she almost felt inclined to feel her hairline to reveal what must've been blood.

_I cannot die. I cannot die. I cannot-_

_Reach for the ledge, Lexa._

She blinked, once.  _What?_

_Look up. Reach for the ledge._

Her eyes flickered upwards. Above was a jutting ledge from the rock face. Large enough to hold her weight. Lexa took a hoarse, whistling breath, pushing back the lightheadedness to the back of her mind and pushing consciousness to the  _front—_  and with a grunt, she reached—

There! A hold, one hand, the rest dangling, her arm  _screaming, aching, threatening to rip..._

And then the next, and she hung there, taking in heavy, taxing breaths. The blur ran her vision, the haven threatened to overwhelm, but c _onsciousness_ c _onsciousness_ c _onsciousness she could not stop now_.

_There. Another ledge. Upwards, only a reach away._

_Reach, Lexa. Right hand first..._

And then she took a heave, a grunt, and stifled a cry. Because the blood thrummed in her brain and curdled, frothed in a brew. Her injuries, her head  _burned,_ the lightheadedness jolted into reality, and the pain she'd felt in her arm was more than she could ever think of.

But no. Even if her arms were screaming with exhaustion from the strain parable to the burning in her legs she felt, and her head was stuffed with clouds into a close haven, she would not give up. She could not. Not when Clarke was still out there, calling for her name. Not with the picture of Madi and her distress evoked in her mind. Not when they needed her, and she needed them.

She heaved a breath, and reached for the next ledge.

_One thing's for certain. I am not dying here._

…

''Lexa!''

Fifteen minutes. It had been fifteen minutes since they had last seen her, and they were still here in the forests. Searching, searching,  _desperately_  for some form of presence, a track or an indicator, for something to tell them that she was still there, still  _here_ , still  _alive_.

The moose had long gone. And the only sounds that echoed in the forests were theirs.

''Lexa!''

_Nothing._

''Lexa? Where are you?''

_But the blank grinning forests._

'' _ **Please**_!''

 _And the gaping black stared back at them_.

''Nothing.'' A hollow echo of the endless forests that Madi sounded. Something that spoke what they both knew, but needn't be said. '' _Nothing_.''

Clarke leaned on a tree, panting hard. She heard Madi's empty words; heard her resignation and defeat. And still, she screamed for Lexa's name. Madi felt pain ripple through her; empathy, distress,  _hurt—_ and she gazed at Clarke, eyes clear with pain, and begged her to  _please, please stop screaming, please stop hurting yourself, please, please just stop._

She yelled it at Clarke; shouted as hard as she could, but Clarke wasn't listening, wasn't  _here_ anymore. Madi yelled 'till her voice was hoarse and her ears rung, 'till she could no longer hear the footsteps that reverberated the ground and her own gasps in anguish, and yet Clarke wasn't listening. She wasn't listening, she couldn't listen, she  _wouldn't_ listen.

And it wasn't long until Madi stopped listening to herself as well, ignored the taunting voices in her head, and screamed into the empty night with someone else who wasn't listening as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~sorrynotsorry~~
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Let me know what you thought!


	22. Awash Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein there is sad Clexa and family things.

Lexa was groaning in the clearing when they found her. 

''Lexa!'' Clarke choked out when the figure came into view, and ran and knelt beside the groaning Commander, Madi had caught up with Clarke, but lingered a few feet behind as she watched the duo.

They had searched for nearly an hour, scouting all around the forests for any sign of Lexa. It was Madi who pointed out the clearing in the midst of the dense forests—a place where moose-herds were likely to gather... and thus, through what any logical plus slightly-hungry mind would say, a hunt would be there as well. 

Clarke's distress was evident, but so was her happiness, with her tears that sprung by the corners of her eyes. She scanned over Lexa's wounds, knelt beside her and she helped her sit up on the grass, their breaths heavy when their gaze finally met their other's eyes.

Clarke seemed distressed when she gazed over Lexa's wounds. ''Are- are you okay?''

'Mostly,'' Lexa murmured, her arm supporting her weight underneath her, as she mentally checked over her own wounds. There was blood that matted her hair, her head was still light, her legs were bleeding but she was  _alive._ She was  _alive_ , she was  _fine_ , and that was all that mattered now. Lexa closed her eyes; didn't want to think about her ordeal, especially when the said ordeal was only a few feet away from her and she had no intention of going through it again. 

They panted, heaving quick, quiet breaths, as they met each other's eyes, drank in the other's presence, felt their  _warmth_ , felt their  _tears_ , felt them  _alive_  —until Clarke's gaze tore away from Lexa's, as she bit back a choke.

''I can't believe it,'' she said, her voice entranced with childlike disbelief. Shook her head, twisted her eyes away from the foresf to meet Lexa's, and caressed Lexa's palm— 

Another choke—

''Oh  _Spirits_ , I thought you  _died_!'' Clarke whispered, her voice so hoarse it was nearly rendered inaudible; as if, if she said it aloud, it would become truth and she would realise she was only dreaming. And Lexa had to choke back a cry herself, as she traced away a tear that curved down Clarke's cheek.

Lexa attempted a smile. ''Not so easily, Clarke kom Skaikru. Not so easily.''

Clarke had only choked back her tears, her hands squeezing Lexa's shoulders as she felt the bruises underneath, caressed Lexa's cheeks as they both choked back their disbelief, and Clarke thumbed the blood away from Lexa's lips, as Lexa breathed in a shuddery gasp; Clarke took her with a kiss. Desperate, yearning; one that lasted so long but was too short, tasted of metal that stained bitter, that Lexa reciprocated and kissed harder still.

And when they broke away, they took in the other's scent, gazed in the other's eyes, as Madi looked on by. It was Lexa that cleared her throat, and nodded towards Clarke.

''We must leave now,'' she said, but her voice was oddly hoarse. ''It will be late soon. And—'' her eyes flickered away from Clarke into the forests, and that was when Clarke noticed a gaping fissure in the forest for the first time.

It was a large long freak-fissure, smack in the middle of a clearing that was surrounded by the forests. She gazed closer—it was deep and wide, and seemed like the ground had split apart on its own accord— _perhaps an aftermath from Praimfaya?_

But something else took her attention as well. Clarke squinted— _was she seeing right?_  But it was certain—all around the freak fissure was a broken framework of leaves and branches, as if it was once part of a netting of some sort. With it, she could see how it would've been hidden from view… especially when they were distracted.

Like a trap. 

_Something that was once there, but dug further, widened and snared, made worse by human hands._

And Clarke’s thoughts returned to the respirator she found tangled inside the ivy, and she felt sick to the stomach. She knew who did this. 

She only wished that it wasn't true.

Lexa's voice was of trepidation when she spoke again, and Clarke didn't blame her. ''—I do not wish to stay.''

Clarke nodded, the uncomfortable thought lingering in her mind for a moment too long, and scooping Lexa carefully in her arms, amid a grunt and a nod towards Madi, they ambled the path back to their truck.

…

_Rope. Ration packets. Rucksack._

_That was all they needed. And with one heaving breath, she nodded to Clarke, her shadow expanding with her back against the dusk, as she lurched to where she was propped up against._

_She lifted her in her arms. Struggled through the sand. Grimaced as she winced, gasped in strain as she groaned, and struggled as she stifled a broken cry._

_It was their slow fight. Against the raging storm that was the desert. Her legs were paralysed—and it hadn't been more evident than before. Especially in a desert where her only mobility device was useless, in a desert where sand had consumed all._

_This was their last resort. And it was their last stand; their last_ **_fight_ ** _, she realised with bitterness. Clarke could not go far, not with her as her burden. They had to stop at intervals; for Clarke to catch her breath, for Lexa to recover her sanity. And their breaks had become all too frequent; all too fast, and they both knew, in their hearts, that the both of them were breaking down._

_The world was swallowed by the sand. Everywhere they looked, there wasn't anything but the dust. They both knew their mistake, if five arduous days haven't taught them anything. They should have stayed on the Island, waited out their days living at least a lavish life—as lavishly as a dead planet could provide them—then at least, they would've died in peace. Not in a struggle. Not in a fight for survival._

_But their stay would be a death sentence. And she'd be damned if she would've rather have left—if for a chance, if for a whimsical strain of false hope, if even for a_ **_possibility_ ** _that they could survive. For she was done waiting for her death._

 _But there was no point in delaying the inevitable. Not when it could save_ **_her_ ** _life._

_She cracked open her lips, whimpering in a plea for Clarke to leave her behind; but her caked throat, burnt broken by the heat, could not emanate a single word. So she closed her mouth, and relished the pitiful moisture that was left within._

_Clarke doesn't respond, but blinked. And if anything, her hold tightened on her chest, on her legs, as if reinforcing the fact that she wouldn't let go, that she wouldn't leave her behind, that if they died they did it together._

_There was nothing but the sand, the sand that never seemed to end, the strain, the strain and the pain and the pain…_

_There was pain, but that never stopped them._

_There was…_

_There were…_

_There were silhouettes._

_''Trees!'' Clarke rasped out, shakily, ''There are trees!''_

_Her heart lifted. But when they approached the silhouettes, as the sand thinned and receded like an ebbing tide, as the shadowed sticks became denser in size, as their hopes lifted still—_

_It was then, when they approached the forest, when the sand was dirt, when their hopes was the highest that they realised—the trees were dead._

_But they were still there. And from her broken throat rasped a laugh; pitiful, but still one nevertheless. She looked up; and saw a smile break across Clarke's features, the first time since the Death Wave._

_There were trees. Dead, but they still were there._

_Still_   ** _there_** _._

_It was their false hope. False, but it was still hope all the same._

…

''Lexa… you're heavy.'' Clarke groaned as she stumbled through the trees, carrying Lexa bridal-style, as Madi followed on ahead, clearing a path for them to move through, back to the truck. It was a terrible attempt at making light of a bad situation, to keep their predicament from their mind, but Lexa appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.

And so Lexa gave a mock scoff, and muttered in response: ''Cut off my legs and see how heavy I still am.''

Clarke let out a quiet chuckle, but then continued on through the forests without another sound, when there was no response from Madi. She sighed to herself. Their mood was tense; they were all distraught, and Clarke didn't blame them. Not after Lexa nearly died in a trap. But alleviating the atmosphere turned out harder than it was supposed to be.

Their banter… it was for Madi's sake. To show that everything was okay. And Lexa's, to reassure each other that they were fine. And hers, when she came to think about it. To tell herself that they were all  _alive_ , that they were  _safe_ , that everything would turn out okay, despite it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you liked it! Again, let me know what you thought <3 I'll try to respond to everything!
> 
> Thanks for reading you wonderful people <3


	23. Ghosts of the Past—

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein there are answers, but more questions are raised alongside.

Thankfully, it didn't take as long a time as they did with Clarke and the bear trap.

They had managed to reach the truck in record time, which was, at the very least, shorter than  _what happened_  during the entire bear-trap debacle. Unfortunately, it had taken even longer due to the broken wheelchair that was laid in the bottom of the fissure.

After leaving Lexa in the truck, Clarke had left with a rope from the truck back to where the freak fissure was, and securing it to a nearby tree trunk, she had descended into the fissure to retrieve the remains of the broken wheelchair. After a few more descents, and even more parts-transport with a furiously hard-working Madi, they had finally settled into the truck nearly an hour after dark, amid with some grunts, sweat and groans.

And it was then, when they were breathing long and hard and Clarke switched on the truck's lights, that Lexa contemplated Clarke's words.  _She thought I had been taken._

''Taken?'' Lexa questioned, after gratefully taking water that was offered by Madi.

Clarke swallowed. She couldn't—didn't  _want to_   _think_ about it, not right now, not only when she had gotten Lexa back after she thought she was lost. ''Yeah. By him. The Maunon.  _Carl Emerson._ ''

Madi made a strangled sound in the back of her throat. Lexa seemed puzzled as she looked at Clarke, but Madi's response went unnoticed. ''Wouldn't he be dead? Crawled off to die somewhere in a cave after we let him go?''

Clarke let out a small, disbelieving laugh. ''Yeah, well, he's still alive, somehow.'' And then, troubled, because the shadow she saw—the shadow that appeared among the woods, taunted her like a ghost,  _was_  real, right? It couldn't be her imagination. ''He has to be. He  _had_  to have made that trap. W-what else?'' she ended on disbelief.

Lexa seemed concerned. ''Clarke… are you sure you're not seeing things?''

Clarke blinked. ''What?''

''The Maunon are extinct, Clarke. They had all died when you chose to pull a lever—'' and at this, Clarke stiffened. ''—the choice leaders would make for their people. He was the last of his people, and he cannot be alive—not after everything. Not after all we've done.''

''Why can't he?'' Clarke scoffed, and let the memories at Becca's Lab envelop her. Of how they found him, scarred all over by Praimfaya's radiation. Of how they decided to use him as a lab-rat, and injected round after round of Nightblood serum into him. Of how he  _survived,_ and they decided to let him go. ''We gave him  _life_ , Lexa. Using the serum, with  _your_ bone marrow. I don't see why can't he be alive.''

_And the respirator. Oh god, if that wasn't anything but about him, then who else could it be?_

''Because—'' and at this, Lexa felt her throat constrict, ''—he was exposed to Praimfaya radiation that would've killed even my strongest warrior in a week's time, not to mention  _him_.''

''I'm still alive,'' was all Clarke had to say. Then, angrily, she slammed a fist into the side of the truck. '' _Goddamnit! God-fucking-damnit! I should've killed him when I had the chance!''_  She breathed in, loud, hard, angry, and hit the metal once more as it rattled from the impact. _''Why didn't I kill him?!''_

 _Because we didn't want one more death on our consciences,_ Lexa thought, but didn't voice.  _Not when we were the only ones left on the face of Earth then._

''Clarke…'' Madi jutted in. ''Please don't break the truck.''

Slowly, Clarke pulled her fist away from the side of the truck. She breathed in shuddery breaths, and as she thought of the first few weeks of the Death Wave—the weeks she had tucked away into the dark recesses of her mind, the weeks she swore to  _forget_ and  _never remember_. And she realised—it would never truly leave her, however much she wanted to. After all, all the ghosts she'd left on her road only came back to haunt her, no matter how much she wanted to forget of the apparition. 

Lexa cleared her throat, as she waited for Clarke's anger to subside. She herself felt anger boiling within her, at the thought of  _Carl Emerson, Mt. Weather Security Detail_ still alive, despite all that was done to put him down _._ A traitor to all kinds, an unrelenting killer—someone they despised so much that they used him to test Nightblood injections on behalf of Clarke. But she suppressed the anger, kept it within her—at least, until the next training session came around.

''He still  _survived_.'' Clarke growled, in partial anger and frustration. ''And now he's back, coming for Round Three.  _God, Lexa… he's still alive.''_

Madi, who was a silent observer of their conversation thus now, supplied two words. ''Well,  _crap_.''

…

After returning to the abode, they had settled the remains of the wheelchair on a tarp. Lexa surveyed the remains in silence.

It was half-broken—the caster wheel and the larger ones had cracked upon the impact, and a few spare parts were either broken or damaged beyond repair—but it was salvageable. The only saving grace was that the fissure had not cut deep, which meant though the wheelchair was broken indeed, it wasn't entirely unredeemable. Which was good, because she doubted that there would be another spare wheelchair lying around Polis, least of all Shallow Valley

And though repairings would take time, thankfully, they had the resources and parts to do so from scavenging, mostly from the parts which Madi had taken home due to her not-so-healthy obsession with mechanisms, particularly a few specific gears that was to be used in her bear-traps and a stockpile of varying resources that were saved for her plan to create a large-scale wheeled trebuchet.

It would take a few days, if they were lucky with parts. Perhaps weeks, even, or maybe even more. But Lexa was determined; for it was her  _movement_  she was gazing at, her  _freedom_  that was broken; and if there was anything she could do, it was to regain it back.

…

425 days since Praimfaya (365 days since Madi).

''Carl—why'd you do that?!'' Madi said, distressed as she barged into his cave. Carl's hand, which was raised in a wave, was dropped, and his mouth, which was in mid-greeting had faltered to a stop.

''Do what?'' He asked, carefully, placing his bag by the side, which seemed to distress Madi even more.

 _''That!''_ she almost exclaimed, upset. ''Y-you know what you did!''

Carl held up both his hands in front of him in a sign of peace. ''Whoa, Madi, firstly,  _calm down.''_ And then, even more carefully, as Madi huffed and anger lines creased her brow: ''What-what are you accusing me of?''

''Diggin' that  _ditch!''_ Madi almost yelled out, upset, which had seemed to surprise Carl, because he backed away a few steps. ''Makin—makin' it blend in so one of us could unexpectedly  _walk in!''_

Hands still upturned, he said, carefully, as to not upset Madi even more: ''I-I don't know what you're talking about, Madi.'' he admitted. ''C-can you show me it?''

And at that, Madi glared at him angrily, which had shut Carl up, as he blinked at the Nightblood, bewildered.

 _What is it with Madi today?_  he thought. And then, Madi's mouth opened, almost in a gawk as she stared at his uncomprehending expression, and then she spiralled into a rant.

''S-stop  _actin_ ', Carl! You made that trap! We all know it— _no one else could've!_ 'Cause—cause you were upset a-about  _them,_ b-because they killed  **all** of your people—but this  _isn't_ the time for that anymore!'' Madi yelled, exasperated, as Carl blinked at her in confusion. ''Y-you almost  _killed_ Lexa!'' she exclaimed in upset, glaring at him furiously as she gripped at her shirt ends. ''Why'd you have to go and  _do_   _that_?'' she yelled, upset. ''You ruined e-everything! All-all the chance w-we had a-at  _peace_! N-now they  _hate_ you, n-now they know you  _exist,_ and now-now they're gonna  _hunt you down!_ All—all 'cause they think it's how they're gonna  _survive_! _''_

And then, after all Madi's words as she stood there, panting in anger, regulating her quickened breathing, Carl blinked at Madi, trying to comprehend everything she had said since she'd come into the cave. ''Madi… I-I have no idea what you're talking about,'' he managed to say out. And then, his brow furrowed: ''W-what did you mean  _found out_?  _Hunted down_?'' And at Madi's glare, he sighed, and tried again: ''I-I get it, Madi. I  _know_  it isn't the time for strife. T-trust me, I've put it down. I've  _tried,_ a-and I've done good so far _._ So if this's some kind of test or somethin'…'' he trailed off.

Madi only glared at him again. ''Whatever. I think you're right. We'll all only just be Grounder and Maunon.'' she choked out, and with one last, angry look at the confused man in the cave, stalked off back into the woods, back to Clarke and Lexa, back to somewhere where she didn't have to feel so angry, to feel the rage at being used, lied to, and having  _hope_  somewhere in her heart.

Somewhere where the tears in her eyes could be counted as something else.

…

And after there was not a sound or a shadow in sight, Carl had sat himself down, dazedly, as he blinked at the spot where Madi had left.

What did she mean  _he dug a trap?_  Sure, he'd dug some traps sometime after he arrived at Shallow Valley, to lure in prey, but that was that. All those traps he'd dug would've been filled with rainwater and mud over time anyway. Madi yelled at him for making a trap, apparently… but he was fairly certain that he hadn't dug any traps now, especially recently.

And what was all that about… killing Lexa? Sure, he might've hated the Grounder Queen for all she'd done to his people, and everything... else that had happened since then, but he was vaguely certain that he didn't actually go out of his way to murder her. Not when… not when Madi cared about her. And at that thought, Carl sighed, and massaged his temple with his fingers.

And why did she say that they could only be  _Grounder_ or  _Maunon_ when she was the one that had so vehemently protested for the opposite? What made Madi change her mind so quickly, and so… angrily, at that? He wasn't… hurt, he was just  _confused_. Or maybe it was the other way around, but still.

_What the hell was happening?!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts! Things might feel slightly confusing, but all will be explained soon. :D
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	24. Two Kinds (Three Lives)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein there is some more aftermath.

''Emerson,'' Clarke growled as she prowled through the abode, occasionally throwing her hands in the air in frustration. ''God-fucking- _damnit,_ Emerson. I can't believe he's  _still_  alive.''

Lexa muttered something under her breath as she twisted a bolt into the wheelchair. ''We have to sort this out, Clarke. There's no point in forgetting that.''

''With what? A truce?'' Clarke nearly scoffed. ''Don't forget  _the_   _people_   _he_   _killed_ , Lexa.  _250_  in Tondc.  _50_  of  _my_   _people_. He's not gonna change.''

Lexa sighed, and placed down the wrench. ''Clarke… do not forget that we are murderers as well. And do not forget that it is not the same now—the past is the past, and we are in an apocalypse now. Do you not think that our situation would be different as opposed to the past— when we were the only faces left on Earth?''

Clarke swivelled her head to face Lexa in disbelief. '' _How_  is it different? He's still  _Maunon_. We're still... us.'' A sigh. ''He still hates us, Lexa, for what we've done in the past. It doesn't matter if it's the future now—nothing can change that, not even an apocalypse.''

Madi didn't speak.

…

_Alive. Alive. Alive._

He paced around the cave.

_They were alive._

Sure he knew that. He knew that, when Madi told him three days ago. The murderer of his people and the Grounder Queen which instigated it all,  _Clarke and Lexa, alive alive alive._  He knew it, he knew it, he  _knew it._ Hell, he even told  _himself_  about it, repeated it so many times in their head that they were  _alive alive alive_  and told himself there was nothing he could do about it, because if he began to  _think_  of all the things he could do,  _would do,_  he'd never stop, and of course there was always  _Madi_  to think about.  _Madi, Madi, Madi,_  the child that was Grounder but was different alike. Wanted not war but peace, saved her enemies because she simply could.  _Madi_ , the reason why he didn't try and murder the genocidal maniac and the bloodthirsty tyrant yet.

But now, it had finally sunk in, like he'd finally realised that there was a sledgehammer pounding on his head all this time, like there was a fog that came when the Grounder child entered his life and he was lifted from the haze for the first time.

_Alive Alive Alive._

It didn't matter if it was a mistake, a misunderstanding, or both. It was that which opened his eyes. And it was Madi's words which rubbed the colour away from the rose-tinted glasses.

_Alive Alive Alive._

And now that they knew he was here, there was only one kind which could survive. And he'd be stupid if he didn't think they didn't think the same.

_Alive Alive Alive._

They were  _alive_.

…

_5 DAYS LATER…_

Madi trailed off into the forests, dragging her bow behind her as she thought about Carl Emerson's words.

He had seemed…  _confused_. Even after everything she'd said, everything she'd accused him of, he was confused. He didn't seem to know what she was talking about, had no idea what she'd said, even when she left. So Carl was either a really good liar… or he was telling the truth.

That thought unsettled her. The remains of her last meal were still churning in her stomach, and Madi felt like she was going to be sick.  _Maybe—maybe it was something else. Maybe the trap was made before Praimfaya, or-or maybe…_

 _So what if it wasn't him? W-what if he was telling the truth, that he didn't_ **_know?_ ** _T-then I would'a gone off at him for_ **_nothing,_ ** _and I would'a just have_ **_ruined_ ** _everything._

 _Oh Spirits,_  she thought, and buried her head in her hands.  _Oh Spirits, maybe it wasn't him,_ she thought, and the  _weight_  of her spur-of-the-moment words finally crashed down on her.  ** _Spirits_** _, even if he did it, or not—even if it was or wasn't him—what have I_ ** _gone and DONE?!_**

 _Stupid, stupid, Madi!_  She kicked a stone.  _Stupid!_ Regret coloured red blossomed on her face, but the damage was still done. _What have I said?! I… I told him that he'll always be Maunon, and we'll always be Grounder. I told him that we couldn't be one._ ** _Spirits,_** _why was I so_ ** _mean_** _?! Why did I say that?!_

Madi wanted to curl up and die, as her cheeks burned red.  _Oh, Spirits… please forgive me._

And in front of her, there stood a shadow. But then Madi blinked, there was a flash of brown, and it was gone.

_W-what…?_

And then there was a rustle, and there it was again, a dark figure, bounding among the woods. Two more blinks and it was gone, but it was unmistakably  _there_.

''W-wait!'' Madi felt herself yell at it, as her eyes darted around the forests surrounding her, its expanse travelling around in a blur, and never had she ever felt so small, so…  _surrounded._ And it was with wide eyes did she realise what she was witnessing, all over again.

_Shadows dancing among the forests…_

_No. NonononoNO this was NOT happening now._

There was another rustle, and her head twisted to meet the sound, but there was nothing except the wide green trees that met her eyes.

_Fumbling through the leaves. That was where her hands were. In her eyes she looked up—and saw the dusk._

_NO! I'm not there anymore, I'm here now I'm here now I'm here now…_

But no, she was there, distinctly, she felt it. The heartbeat, the drums, the march of the troops and the perspiration that glistened in her neck. And her body reacted on autopilot; and she was  **there**  again, she was  **back**  again, even though she  _wasn't_ , even though she couldn't  **be**.

_"Run, Madi! The Fleimkipas have come!"_

She was running, she was running, until she wasn't. But her emotions were screaming, her body was sweating and hollering at her to  _go_ , to  _speed up,_ to  _burst or you're dead_ , even though she wasn't running, even though knew she wasn't physically  _there_.

_Surrounded by the shadows. One tightened hand, a jolt of warmth that surged through the palm, and then there was one bald man, his hand clasping a sword. Lines of anger creased his expression, and she felt revulsion grip her throat. A suckle back, and then a spat that splattered his face._

_noNOno this WASN'T_ ** _happening_** _!_ But she was there again, but this time she wasn't her, this time she wasn't watching the scene, staring in the horror of it all. This time she was them.

_A holler, a shout, one swoop of a blade that glistened the dawn of golden-yellow…_

There was a glimpse of brown, and then Madi fell, tumbling down a dozen miles away, to a place no closer than home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought! Would love to see what you think about this. Do you think there's a point in trying to unite the two kinds, or is death the inevitable?
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	25. Fleeting Memories (That Shouldn't Be Forgotten)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein there is even more aftermath. And talks. There's a lot.

She was staring into the sun.

One so large, one so red and bright that she felt like she could touch; that if she fell, she would've been enveloped by the scale of it all. But she wasn't afraid.

She leaned in, and then back. Swayed, almost, at the radiating heat of it all, like a beat to a rhythm. The warmth enveloped her like a hug; the rays that shone in her eyes were a shade of yellow-orange—not blinding, but… calm. Blissful.

All around her, there were sounds, but they were only echoes, echoes of memories, of a past she couldn't care less of. It was only her, and the bliss, and so she closed her eyes and felt.

A sound echoed in front of her. Direct, clearer than most, and Madi's eyes opened. But it was garbled; like they were speaking from under water. And so, with one long last look into the serene sun, Madi turned her eyes away from the dusk; and listened.

 _''Madi…''_ there was a voice in the haze.  _''Madi, wake up…'''_

She opened her eyes, and saw the face of a concerned Carl staring back at her.  _Panic_ ,  _panic_ , sheer  _panic_  filled her mind, but she forced herself to calm down.  _Get away from me!_ was on the tip of her tongue, until she saw Carl's face.

Carl seemed visibly relieved. ''Thank god, Madi,'' he breathed out, as he poured out something into a bottle cap. Then, he held it out to her, and Madi's brow furrowed. ''Here, drink.''

She felt confused, but nevertheless took the bottle cap gratefully and drank. What had happened? One moment she was in the forests, and the next moment she was… here, being taken care of in Carl's cave. She didn't remember anything. ''W-what happened?''

And now this time, it was Carl's brow that was furrowed. ''You don't remember?'' he said, and when Madi looked even more confused than before: ''I found you in the forests, Madi. Sprawled out on the ground like you were some sleepin' angel. Saw you while I was walkin' out 'fer…'' he trailed off, then cleared his throat. ''Y-you don't remember?'' he repeated again, confusion written on his face.

With that, Madi bolted from the makeshift bed. Felt for her surroundings; she was in a cave, felt for her weapons, supplies, felt for the  _bow_ she had with her. And it was with a frown she glanced at Carl and asked: ''W-where's my… bow?''

If Carl couldn't look even more confused, he did. ''What bow?''

Madi's voice became apprehensive. ''I-I had a bow with me when I…'' she trailed off. Wondered if  _fainted_  or  _collapsed_  was the right word or would've worried him more.

But Carl shook his head, gazed at Madi again almost sadly. Did he think she'd gone crazy? ''There was no bow when I found you, Madi.'' he stated slowly like he thought she was crazy but decided to go slow in a hope for her to regain her senses.

Madi's head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. There was  _nothing_ , and yet there was  _something_. She knew it, she  _saw_ it in the forests, a shadow, a slender figure, a  _flash_  of brown…

Carl caught her distress, and his concern seemed to elevate. ''Hey…'' he began, soothingly. ''… you might've been seeing things before, but you're okay now. You're safe. Alright?'' he said, but Madi didn't seem to hear him.

 _Shadows_ ,  _shadows_ , dancing in the woods. A flash of brown, a slender figure… but was it all in her head? Was she just hallucinating, was Carl right, was she just seeing things? The thought knotted her stomach, and she suddenly felt very queasy.

And then, as her stomach tightened and the subject rested heavily in her mind, her eyes travelled across the cave, as she tried to forget about it. But then, her brow furrowed, because she vaguely remembered it being  _a LOT_  less bare.

Madi focused her gaze on Carl in question, but then she realised that he wouldn't meet her eyes.

''Carl…'' Madi said, quietly. Everything that had  _happened_  was still on her mind, but it was an afterthought. ''Are you okay?''

Carl groaned. ''They took everything, Madi,'' he said softly. ''My weapons. Food.  _Everything_. They raided my cave this morning. As if they're sayin' that it was my fault, tellin' me to turn myself in.'' He buried his head in his hands, and then pushed up to his hair.

Madi paused long enough to blink. ''A—are you sure it was them?'' she whispered, almost dazedly, confusion evident in her mannerisms. ''Because I know—'' and she  _did_  know, didn't she? After all that time? ''—they're not that kind of people.''

Carl almost snarled. Glared at Madi with an anger she hadn't seen on his face before—and she felt frightened  _because_  of him for the first time in her life. ''Who else could it've been?!'' he nearly exploded. And then, a mumble. ''It had to be them. It  _had to be._ Because they think  _I've_ set the trap. And—and that's why they're doin' this now. Be-because only one of our kinds can  _survive._ ''

_We can't live together._

Those were his words, hoarse as it were, when she asked him if he'd live with Grounder survivors.

_We're Grounder and he's Maunon._

Their words, when they told her why they were _different_ , and why they couldn't just get along.

_They're still the people that killed mine. Nothing's gonna change that._

Carl's words, Clarke's words, when they told Madi of one another's kinds.

_He's still Maunon. He'll always be._

Their words.

_They're Grounder. I'm Maunon. I'll always be on the wrong side of the tale._

His words.

_He murdered hundreds. Of mine and yours alike—of ours. That's not gonna be just forgotten._

Clarke's, pacing through the living room, when she seethed to Lexa about _them_.

_They murdered all of mine—until I was the last one surviving. Not like I can just forget that._

Carl's, bitter and rueful, as he looked at her while the fire crackled on by.

 _Lexa nearly died because of_   ** _him_** _._

A yell in her voice; a thought never voiced but Madi heard all the same.

 _All my people died because of_   ** _them_** _!_

A yell in his; one he had said so many times but Madi pretended not to hear.

_There's no one else out there that could've done it._

_But they weren't that kind of people._

_There's no one else out there that could've done it._

_But he wasn't that kind of person._

_They didn't do it._

_He—maybe he didn't do it._

_No one else…_

And the doubt settled in her stomach. Was it? After all, after that trap that Carl had  _apparently_  set, it wasn't entirely unexpected. But Madi... Madi couldn't see Clarke or Lexa doing that. Heck, she didn't even know if they'd found Carl's  _cave_  yet. But who else could it be?

But then Madi thought about the hypothetical  _what if_ that had rested in the back of her mind, and she wondered. Because, what if it wasn't Carl that had set the trap, right? And what if it  _wasn't_  Clarke and Lexa that raided his base, (and she knew it, knew it couldn't be, they weren't that type of people—could it?)… but what if?

''M-maybe it was s-somebody else,'' she suggested, her mind in a haze, as she thought about the things that happened the days before. Because she  _knew_  Clarke and Lexa,  _knew_  them enough that they wouldn't raid Carl's base. And Carl, too, if she let her mind rest on the trap the days before…

Carl seemed troubled for a moment, his mind pondering the thought until his gaze turned stone. And Madi could only imagine what was going through his mind.

Troubled, Madi turned her mind away from those thoughts. And from her mouth slipped the quiet, quiet words: ''I'm—I'm sorry about  _before_. It's just… I was all heated-up and angry and all the words came out and I  _didn't think_ …'' she said, exasperatedly trying to show her thought process with her hands, which Carl had watched with a blink. ''… I'm sorry.'' she finally ended simply, placing down her hands.

Carl seemed a bit bewildered. But then he shook his head. ''No… it's okay,'' he said, softly. ''I get it.''

Madi was worried for a second, because, although she understood his words, why did his words sound so…  _defeated,_ like there was some underlying message underneath?

''Do you have a secret stash?'' Madi suddenly blurted in question, out loud.

Carl stared at her in disbelief, and Madi wondered if she said something wrong again or if it was the right thing to say at all, until Carl chuckled. ''Nah, Madi. Never really thought of hiding my stuff. After all, I've got no time to search for my things when the time's necessary.''

''Hidin' your stuff's important though. I have a secret stash of my own,'' Madi said, a little quietly. ''I can share with you.''

''Thank you, Madi, but no.'' Carl said, eyes twinkling with something. Nostalgia? Acceptance? Regret? ''I can't run away from it anymore. This—this's personal.''

…

_Letter - 445 days since Praimfaya._

_Sorry about the crinkles._

_As you're probably well aware, I've found some scrap paper behind. And since I have graphite, I figured; why not?_

_I was thinking the other day. About everything Madi's said about Grounder and Maunon, both for and against. She says that we cannot unite; not after what I've apparently done; that I will always be Maunon and she will be Grounder. Some Grounder language shit comes to my mind: jus drein jus daun. Means blood must have blood or something like that. An eye for an eye, revenge championed as retribution. Always their traditions, always their people. And sometimes I wonder bitterly—how did_ **_they_ ** _even manage to bring us into ruin?_

_Can't think that now._

_But she also says that we should put behind our pasts; she tells of tales where we are only one ''Kru'', where we are united for our need for survival. Where past doesn't matter; where the present is now. Where we could be family._

_Could we be family?_

_I think I know the answer. It's a no. Because Madi, as much as I hate to admit it, she's naive. And she's wrong. We won't be united because we all want to survive; hell, we're pitted against each other right now because only one side can end up living, to solve some misunderstanding that I don't even know how even existed in the first place._

_Only one side, like that bedraggled war that my people've lost. And I think I know which side I've chosen to win._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought! :)


	26. Your People

_1 MONTH LATER…_

Madi was walking back from scavenging when she saw Carl.

She was scaling a valley, hefting the haul of gears along when she felt the shadow behind her. Madi whipped her head around, and saw Carl, foreboding and large, up on top of the valley that she was walking up to, and she felt her heart quicken in excitement.

It had been a month since she'd last seen him, ever since their last talk in the cave and since the trap. Madi had tried to visit, every day in the week, but every single time the boulder that blocked the cave door was closed, and she never saw him since. Soon, her mind had turned away from Carl to  _other things_ , like helping Lexa fix her wheelchair (it was a bit better now—they'd managed to find all the parts, and Madi was trying to add a fold-to-rigid mechanism so it'd be easier to use), or peeking around corners to see if she could find a flash of a presence or a shadow, but it didn't mean that she'd  _forgotten_ about him.

Madi felt elation, felt happiness at seeing him  _finally_ … but then she noticed his state. Breathing loud, hard, as careless as he had been when Madi first met him. Overbearing and large, his shadow cast over her, and she felt like prey, felt like she couldn't run…

The gears dropped.

''Carl…'' Madi said, voice frighteningly hoarse. His shadow, his figure still towered over her… and she couldn't help but feel on edge. Her hand felt for her dagger by her side… but to her surprise, there was nothing but thin air.  _Crap! I left it at the abode._  Apprehensively, she asked: ''W-what are you doing...?''

Carl growled. Advanced a step towards Madi as she took a step back. ''I-I'm sorry, Madi. But the past few weeks have been long… and I've thought things over. It's nothing personal.''

Involuntarily, images of the  _trap_  appeared in her mind, the trap that was his but  _wasn't_ all the same, and she felt an emotion in her heat manifest. And then of their talk in the cave, of how his words were seeded with  _regret_ , with  _defeat_ , and Madi felt fear creep into her heart. ''Carl, please… leave.''

Another step. Madi took a step back, feeling the slope uneven underneath her feet, as Carl towered above her with emotions she couldn't discern. Shrouded by the light, shadows cast over his face. Madi tried again: ''You're a  _good_   _person_ , Carl. You—'' she paused. ''—what are you doing?''

He didn't seem to hear her. ''You know, Madi, I was thinking about the words you've said before. Back at the cave. About me being Maunon. And about how we'll never get over our pasts, and how you'll always be  _Grounder,_ and  _I'll_ always be Maunon. Of how there's always gonna be strife in our bloodlines.''

Madi took a step back. Apprehensively, she said: ''W-what are you gettin' at?''

Carl smiled, bitterly. ''You're wrong, Madi. There's no way both of us can live together in peace.''

_Oh Spirits, my outburst! Spirits, Spirits, Spirits,_ **_what did I say? Why did I say that?!_ **

Madi held up her palms in an attempt to pacify him, and for whatever whimsical protection she had left. ''But I was  _wrong!_ '' she said, and backed three steps away. And she thought of their talk back in the cave, and she apologised for it, didn't she? Didn't they agree that she was  _wrong_? ''I thought we—we agreed about that! W-we agreed I was  _wrong!_ I-I didn't  _mean_ it, Carl!''

''Whatever I do, you'll always choose  _them_ over me.'' Carl growled, his shadow overbearing and large as it towered above her. ''They'll always be  _your_  people. I'll  _always_  be the last survivor. It's only one or the other. There's nothing  _we_  can do about it.''

''No! But it doesn't have to be like this!'' Madi protested. ''No one  _said_  it had to be like this!'' And Madi felt like she was stuffing her words back in her mouth, because  _she did,_ she  _did_ say that, and now even with an apology, there was no turning back from it. ''Can't—can't we just put back our  _pasts_ , our histories and  _move_   _on_? Why does it matter now, when we're the last people left on Earth anyway?!'' Madi took a breath. Tried not to think of the traps or the cave or the threats of death hanging above all their heads. Carl was breathing hard, blinking at her—almost bewildered, confused even. Madi took the chance.

''Just one chance. One talk with Clarke and Lexa. You can sort things out, and none of  _this_ —'' Madi's gaze tore away from Carl to his hands and to the forests below, ''—whatever you're doing, none of it would need to happen.'' she said firmly. And then she thought about the trap; remembered his confusion; thought of the flash of brown; and felt the gnawing doubt in her chest fully-form. ''Whatever it is, we can sort it out. I'm sure of it.''

His gaze was desperate, wilful—his eyes darted around, as if looking,  _pleading_  for a chance and Madi hoped, oh she hoped so bad that what she said worked. But then his gaze reverted back and  _no no no no no_ his brow narrowed and the stubbornness was on his face again and _no no no_  he chuckled and didn't want to change. ''Too late, Madi.''

And then, he advanced towards Madi with two quick steps, pressed a hand against her mouth and arm-locked her under his shoulder, all before Madi could get out the second scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmk what you thought! :)


	27. Kill Or Be Killed

''Everything! They took everything!' Carl almost screamed, the sound bounding through the empty cave, as Madi winced. ''One month later after the goddamned  _trap,_ and they're still doing it!''

Weekly raids. Whenever Carl built up anything of sustenance, it was gone. Clarke didn't tell Madi anything about it, and neither did Lexa. But all Carl did was scream about it.

She didn't believe it, not at first. Not when Lexa had only finished the repairs for her wheelchair and was still getting used to its manoeuvres. Not when Clarke was too immersed in helping Lexa too much to  _care_  about Emerson. Not when they didn't even know where he  _was,_ not when they didn't even  _talk_  about him in the abode, the topic too much a taboo that the left it untouched.

But who else could it be?

(And yet the doubt was seeded; for so long, and she can't help but think:  _was there something else at play? Was it not just about… them? What if she was right? What if… there was something else out there? That wasn't her imagination?)_

But that thought was jolted from her mind once Carl glared at her. Madi was scared. Apprehensive, almost. ''I-I can convince them, Carl,'' Madi said, turning up her palms. ''Just gimme a chance, Carl, and I'll  _prove_  to them that you didn't do it. I'll prove it,'' she said, even if she had no idea how. Because they didn't know, did they? They didn't know that  _she_  knew Carl, and they didn't know that she'd met him, learned about him, and talked with him during all those nights. And even if she tried to prove something,  _anything_ that said it wasn't  _him_ that did it, then they would learn where exactly she was going out in all those nights in secret... and she'd probably get grounded and punished, not let out to go on her own and something while there was a fight raging on outside.

''They won't believe you!'' he raged on. ''Because—you know why? Because their minds are  _set_  on me being evil, me being  _the last Maunon,_ me being their goddamned  _monster._ And you're just a kid. Nothing  _you're_  gonna say'll change  _their_  minds. _''_

''You don't know that!'' Madi yelled back. ''You  ** _don't know that!_  **Clarke and Lexa are rational. They—I'm sure they'll understand.'' and even then it sounded hollow, like a question, but Madi needn't make it sound so.

''Is that  _not_ a rational thought?'' Carl kicked a stone over. Glared at his empty cave, once filled with weapons, rations, food and comfort, all raided by  _her people._ It was only he was out hunting that saved him from discovery, and a possible long, agonising death. ''That I, the  _Maunon_ , the disgusting, low-lived being that didn't deserve to  _survive,_  set a trap that very nearly  _killed_  your Heda? That he had kidnapped  _you,_ and told  _you_  to tell them that it wasn't  _my_  fault, all for the chance of  _what_? For goddamned  _peace?_ '' and at this, Madi flinched.

 _Peace_. Peace was good. Peace was what they all wanted. Peace was the best thing that could come out of surviving  _together._ So why'd he had to degrade that word like  _that_?

''They already think I'm a monster! Nothing you say will change that. Why the hell would it matter!'' Carl snarled, his glare on the cave turning onto hers.

''It matters—'' and Madi tore her eyes away from Carl, ''—it matters because  _it_   _matters_!'' Desperately, for Madi didn't know what else to say: ''Because your  _life_ matters! Because peace matters! Because-''  _because I don't want anyone to_ ** _DIE_** _, especially not now, not when we're the last four people left on Earth_ ** _ALIVE_** _!''_

Carl was breathing hard, and his glare riveted on Madi, who was panting after her outburst. She gazed at him, waited for his response. For him to  _understand_ what her line of thinking was, for him to agree. And for one fateful moment he wondered—

_This is still a game of kill or be killed, Emerson._

_Don't forget that because Madi's here._

''Don't you get it, Madi?!'' Carl exploded, nearly a yell. ''We're never gonna  _have_ peace! Not—not even if it's the  _end of the world!_ You know why? Because I'm  _Maunon_ , and they're the  _Grounders_. I'm always evil, and they're always gonna be on the  _good side_ of the tale.'' he growled, gazed at Madi with hatred. ''And  _now_  they know I  _lived_ ,'' and this he spat with disgust. '' _Somehow_. And that's enough reason to kill me, for the sake of  _their people_ or some crap like that.''

Madi didn't know what to say. ''But why can't you become  _our people?!_ Then there—there won't be need f-for  _you_ or  _us_. W-we can all just survive, 'cause  _that's all that matters now, isn't it? Survival?''_

And then, at her words, Carl fell silent.

''W-we don't need'ta fight, Carl, not anymore.'' And when Carl didn't respond, Madi continued on: ''Y-you don't know Clarke'n Lexa like I do. B-but they can change. Ma-maybe it's cause you didn't give 'em a chance. But you can do that now.''

And Madi felt hope… until there was a growl and he began pacing around. ''A chance?! If anything,  _they're_  the ones that didn't give me a  _damn_  chance when they took everything I needed to  _survive.''_ And then she was petrified. ''I've avoided them, I've ignored them, I tried my best to  _forget_  them ever since you told me they've existed. But fine,'' Carl snarled with a rage Madi never had felt on him before. ''They want a monster? Fine,  _I'll give it to them._ ''

''Wait!'' Madi yelled after Carl, but she heard the sound of a squelch and a groan… and her eyes flew up in horror and realisation.

The boulder slammed over the entrance and she was left in a cave in the dark, banging on the cave walls, screaming with a ferocity that no one but the bats and the troglodytes heard.

_You're making a mistake!_

_Don't do this!_

_Carl,_ **_no_ ** _!_

And it was the darkness that laughed back at her, as she screamed into the night no-one heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought!


	28. Break Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein there is a confrontation.

Emerson entered the abode with a growl.

Lexa's eyes jolted upwards, and in one movement, she threw the arrow in her hand like a dart. It caught Emerson in the shoulder, but didn't seem to faze him. Only a snarl and a growl as he pulled the arrow out.

It bled, but not quick enough.

'' _You_ ,'' he snarled, and Lexa grasped at the wheels of her chair. He took a sluggish step forward, and Lexa moved back with one hand, the other under the compartment of the armrest, where her dagger was tucked under.

She needed to end it, and quickly. She was still unused to manoeuvring the newly-fixed chair, as it was none near as smooth as it used to be before, and it consisted of parts that were substituted and not necessarily the best.

And she couldn't let him come close. Not with the rage in his face, not with the clumsiness of his stance, not with the unpredictability that blazed his eyes.

''Looks like we've come full circle, huh?'' He rasped, and he lumbered another step forward. ''Since you killed all my kind.'' Another step; Lexa kept her gaze fixated on him. ''Since that  _laboratory_  in the desert. Never wanted to see you again, but—'' a cough, a rueful grin, as his fingers twirled the bloodstained arrow between his fingers, ''—guess it's for the best.''

Lexa gripped at the hidden blade tucked under the armrest. ''That makes two of us.''

''That's if you can touch me,'' Emerson drawled, a lazy smile toying his features. ''But you can't. I have an arrow you so kindly gave me. You don't have a weapon in sight.''

_Keep talking._

''You have nothing. I have everything. Even if it's one simple point,'' and he grinned, traced a finger over the tip, and from it black blood spilt. ''Don't  _you_  know best? All those needles and tests, not even a millimetre long and yet you could  _do so much with it…''_ he toyed with the arrow, the grin still on his face, and it must've been  _oh so symbolic_ for him, that he could possibly torture her like she did to him, with a point so thin you wouldn't even realise it was even there until the pain struck in.  _''_ It's a pity your skills'll be wasted. I'd have to admit, you  _were_  good with a point.''

He kept drawling, oblivious to the fact that it was exactly what she wanted. He spread his arms, and though he smiled lazily, his intentions behind it shone through his wicked lips. ''The roles are reversed now. Now  _you're_ the one that's at my  _mercy_.'' he spat, and his smirk morphed into a snarl. ''And, like you— I don't have any.''

Lexa felt cold grip her heart, and she gripped the blade under her armrest. Blood trickled two ways from his skin, and yet none were quick enough. Not nearly half a litre was lost yet, and that itself would not be lethal enough to kill.

_Closer. Come closer._

His feet stumbled towards her, and she felt the victorious grin on his face. His shadow loomed, she gripped the blade, he took another step closer—

But he wasn't close enough.

His hot breath emanated a few inches away from her skin, and she felt anger flow through her. ''I'm not stupid,'' he began, a smile loosely formed on his face, as he took a few small steps backwards, his arms wide. ''I know what you're doin'. And trust me, it ain't gonna work—''

She slammed into him, wheels and knives and a furious cry, twisting the blade into the flesh and bone she'd caught. There was a sickening squelch, and the blade felt around the mass of guts and organs that was within his skin. And her fingers pulled away, and she let it stick there, as he stumbled a few steps back, dropped the arrow and his hands hovered over the blade like it emitted radiation.

Grunting, she wheeled away from him as it squealed under the wooden floorboards, and to the rack of weapons. When Emerson realised what she was doing, he snarled, and in three stumbling strides, he moved towards her, a hand clutching the knife stuck in his skin—only to feel the slice of a dagger whiz through the air.

With one hand on the wheel and the other pointing the dagger at Emerson, she forced her way forwards. He held up his hands in surrender. And then…

In one movement, he grasped her blade-arm in his hand and yanked her forwards, and the temporarily-fixed wheelchair lurched dangerously forward. She hit the ground with an  _unmph,_ the blade clattering nearby.

_Damnit, Lexa. The most basic of stances, and you forget!_

''That was f-far too easy,'' she heard Emerson mock, the wood moaning in protest from his shoes in front of her eyes. He coughed blood, but it seemed to do nothing to deter him. ''Y'know, I thought I would've had a challenge. You being  _Commander_  and all.''

His snarl. She could hear his snarl, and she knew what was about to come next.

''Tortured me to an inch to  _death!''_

A growl and she felt pain slam the breath from her chest.

''Brought me in, gave me hope— 'till you used me for your  _experiments_!''

Another growl and her vision jarred a shade red.

Blood burst her ear, swirled in her half-consciousness until she could only feel the rattling drum left within.

 _''Wouldn't even let me die!''_ he spat _. ''Even when I_ ** _begged_** _for it.''_

There was a slam to her back, and though she felt nothing she knew her limbs would've been screaming.

''And I won't even get started on our  _history_ ,'' was what she heard amid the grating rattling in her bloodied ear. '' _Won't_ — _EVEN_ —''

Two breaths were knocked from her lungs. Pain. There was black, breaking pain, an endless spiral.  _Everything_  hurt, everything she could  _feel,_ hurt, and—

''Killed all my  _people_! Killed my  _children_ , my  _wife_! People who didn't deserve death!''

She coughed the bile from her throat, and she spat blood. Black, cold blood that lounged her fingers, swirled her vision into its black grasp. She had to do something. Something, something,  _something…_

He sent a kick to her abdomen. Blind, dizzying pain, her vision flashes white, but she resists. ''I'm gonna take her next, y'know?!'' Emerson snarled and kicked her over again.  _Pain_. ''That kid you got.  _Madi_. That's what you call her, isn't it?!'' Another kick to her abdomen, just between the region of numbness and exploding pain. Lexa doubled over, but refused to scream. She couldn't. Not to a Maunon.

And Lexa gritted her teeth and growled, with as little emotion as she could: ''Don't you dare touch her.''

Emerson only laughed a sickly rasp. ''And who's stopping me? You?'' And at Lexa's growl, he only laughed harder. ''Remember when you were the Grounder leader? So strong, so ferocious.'' Another kick and black blood jarred in her eyes. ''Or that time when you  _tortured me until I was an inch away from death?!_ Never felt more powerful then. _''_ She didn't register another kick, but she felt pain explode in, but she gritted her teeth. She wasn't going to give him the pleasure. ''Perhaps I should  _thank you_ for that. After all, you  _did_ save the last of a species you murdered. And now you're finally gonna get that  _death_ your body's practically been begging to be given.''

She felt no kick, but she knew the pain was there. She was too far away; barred away in white, cotton stuffed in her head, eyes that saw a blur, muffled sounds that were her hearing. The involuntary coughs overcame her throat, and she couldn't control, couldn't  _feel_  her limbs anymore. Her slurred vision ran over the worn floorboards, the blood in her fingers, and she felt her sight jar away, as if to embrace an angelic, white night.

_No! Not now. N-not when Clarke's out there. Not when he's threatened Madi._

Another kick. Sparks exploded through her blinding vision, and there was white,  _all of it_ was white— but she refused to let go.

His sniff was of disdain, as he gazed down on her, as if she wasn't even worth looking at. ''Look at you now.''

He began to move away, and Lexa felt her body sing relief, even if all she wanted was to move up to him and slit his throat. The white was fading away. She no longer heard nothing; there was a ring. She could feel consciousness in her arms again. Her vision slowly pieced itself back together; and she could make out the blade under the table, a few inches away.

''Now Clarke… Clarke's a worthy contender…'' His gaze was far away, as he looked through the upper window if Lexa could make out anything through the screaming blood and the jarring ringing in her ears. ''After all,'' and then he spat to the ground, ''she  _did_   _murder_  all of my people.''

In one, loud snarl, the words of  _don't talk about Clarke_ on her lips, she grasped at the blade by her side and threw it at the source of the sound. It clanged against the wooden walls with a  _thunk,_ and that was when Lexa realised she'd missed.

Emerson seemed shocked but recovered quickly. Walked towards her in a slow stride, as if he found her helpless, and she could make out the hilt of the blade still stuck in his skin, the curvate droplets of black blood pouring from its side.  _One litre… not enough. Not enough._

''Who made you Commander?!" Emerson cackled with glee as he kicked her over. She landed on her side, aching with pain. "Who?!" He laughed, his foot coming down on her face—

_Now!_

She wrenched her face away, causing him to stamp on nothing but the floor, its force making a cloud of dust appear. Taking advantage of his now wobbly posture, his might all focused on the stomp, with a swift grasp and a pull from her hands, Emerson lands jarringly onto the floor.

They were there for a few moments, Emerson wincing in pain as she crawled away from him, back to her chair. But too soon, too quickly he recovered.

Emerson scoffed as he stood, fists ready at his side, voice shaky with racked breathing. He stumbled towards her, intent and rage and fervour in his eyes, his hand reached out, and her hand seeks for a hilt in the midst of the jumbled rack…

_There._

She sliced her blade upwards, and Emerson's severed hand went flying. Emerson screamed in an agony of pain and fury and rage alike, and clutched at his now bleeding stump, blood frothing from it like an open tap, and staggered backwards some steps as he howled in fury.

Holding herself upwards with an elbow on the floor, she watched as he shouted as he bled: "This isn't over!"

And he hobbled away with his bleeding stump, as Lexa breathed a few extra breaths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought!


	29. Calm Before The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein there is aftermath from the fight, and Madi and Emerson... talk.

Lexa didn't want to talk about her and Emerson's fight.

It was too close. Too, dangerously close. If he had fought her during then, when they had him captured and she still had the use of her legs, she would've killed him in a heartbeat. There wouldn't've even been a fight, and no one would've batted an eye.

But now? A two-minute-long fight, an embarrassingly long time for a Commander, and he had come close to killing her than any assassin the Clans issued could've had. And before a time where he wouldn't've even come close to touching her, now there were wounds to tend to, injuries that throbbed left and right, and a thousand ants, prickling, burning in her legs, which she prayed wouldn't intensify.

She had enough wounds to lick already.

She could've saved Madi. She could've killed  _him_ , his face an inch away from her boots when she forced his fall, a crack to his neck and it would be done. If only her legs weren't broken.

_If only._

Sucking in a breath, she wheeled over to the counter and winced from the pain it caused.  _Forget it, Lexa,_ her mind told her. _You have other things to do._

 _Spirits,_ she thought.  _''Other things.'' When will ''other things'' ever stop cropping up?_

_As long as I don't let them stop._

There was a breath, as with a groan, she pulled out the medical drawer under the counter. From it she pulled a strip of gauze from the bag, and gingerly began to wrap the worse of her wounds with it. They were loose; barely fitting, but she was too in pain to make it tighter, to make it firmer, yet.

 _Emerson_ , she made herself think, amid the swirl of pain that wouldn't leave.  _Carl Emerson. Spirits, his survival. We were so sure that—that he was dead. That he would be. There was no way he could've survived._

 _You underestimate the human will, Lexa,_ and the words were soft, nearly melodic even, underneath a harsh guise. She grimaced and pulled the gauze tighter.  _Anya_.

That was when _she_ had spoken to her after the bullet had broken her spine, in her tent when she recuperated from the aftermath, registered her injuries, bitter from the shooting. Said her words, even as resentful as Lexa were; told her, believed, not in her then, but in her will—that was there for survival.

 _And why,_ she thought, and she would've chuckled, if not for the blood that was metal bile in her throat, _should the same not apply to Emerson?_

There was an involuntary sigh, as she did the final bind; and keeping a hold of one end and the other hold outstretching the other end, with a pull, she had ripped the gauze away. And with that, she gritted her teeth and pushed back the sore cry in her throat—for it was not the time now.

It was not the time now. Neither was it for the burning— _Spirits_ , the  _burning_  at the worst times. She  _needed_  to ignore it, and continue on. Why was it so hard?

_Spirits, Lexa. When will you ever address it?_

She knew the answer. Yet she didn't want to admit it; as she took another bandage from the drawer, and began to bind another wound.  _Other things. Other things came first._

_Is engrossing myself in ''other things'' really how I should face my demons? In coming to terms with my disability?_

She growled; wrenched her thoughts away from that. She couldn't think that now. Not when there was so much else to consider. Lexa took a low breath— focused on her bandaging. Her legs could wait. Other things came first.

 _Other things._ That was what was important. Other things included saving Madi. Other things included murdering Emerson. Other things were more important than what was on her mind now. Other things included so much more than the plagued expanse in her brain.

_But when will the next ''other thing'' arise—when will you keep time to herself?_

Another heaved breath. Tore her eyes away from the gauze; her fingers fiddled with it, slightly.

 _After this is over,_ she promised herself and looked at the counter staring back at her.  _After this is over, then I'll give myself all the time I need._

…

''Carl!'' Madi yelled as she banged her fists against the boulder blocking the cave's entrance. ''Carl,  _get me out of here_! Somebody— _somebody help me!''_ she screamed, but the only thing that heard it was the cave itself, echoing her shouts like a taunting laugh.

_It's all my fault. All 'cause I opened my big mouth and didn't think about the words before I said them._

_All my fault._

And as the blame swirled in her mind, Madi threw herself at the boulder, banged her fists and shouted until her voice was hoarse for g _od-knows how long_ , until finally, when all the fight was sapped from her and she sat on the cave grounds, panting for breath, a shred of light shone from a crack in the boulder. And then more, until the boulder was rolled away and all that was left was Carl.

Madi spent a second on the silhouette before she made a bolt for it. But then Carl's arm caught her chest, and she was dragged back kicking and screaming.

When she was thrust back inside, Carl shut the boulder halfway, himself blocking the other half. And that was when Madi caught a good look at Carl. He was panting, almost as hard as she'd been. Sweat coursed down his neck. His left hand was gone, the loosely-bound stump that was left was dripping with blood, and she had to stifle a scream.  _Oh Spirits. Ohspiritsohspiritsohspirits._

But when Madi gazed at him, her terrified eyes flickering from Carl's stump to his face to the halfway-shut boulder, the only question she asked was: ''why?''

Carl didn't respond, but pushed the boulder entirely, until it was just the light and Carl's shadow she saw. ''Go, Madi,'' he said, his voice tight. ''Don't go—to Clarke or Lexa until at least three hours have passed. Go inside the forests for now—hunt, scavenge, pick berries,  _do anything._ Just—just don't come back,'' he said hoarsely,  _desperately_ , as if it was his last request and he'd do anything to make it happen. Like a plea. Voice still hoarse, if not hoarser than before— ''Just do it for me.''

''No.'' And at Carl's bewildered glance, Madi said, with even more conviction, her eyes meeting his in determination: '' _No_ , they're coming, aren't they? Clarke n' Lexa?'' Then, when Carl refused to meet her eyes, Madi looked at his stump and then focused on his face: ''Y-you want to  _die_  to solve this?'' And then, angrier: ''You're gonna kill yourself— an', an' I'm not gonna let that happen.''

''Damnit, Madi!'' Carl yelled in ferocity, and fear crossed Madi's eyes. She backed away at the sudden change, but to no avail. Carl stumbled forward, a few steps, and Madi knew she should go, knew she should leave, but couldn’t take her eyes off him. He neared her, swaying, his right arm behind him as if to take something from his belt— and she took the first step forward, nearly, as if she was gonna bolt—

And then she felt cold metal press against her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ey, cliffhangers!
> 
> Fun Fact: Chapter is titled Calm Before The Storm with much thanks to Typhoon Mangkhut—basically gigantic typhoon that has ravaged pretty much everything in its path. And before I posted this, everything was just so calm—had to take up the opportunity, heh.
> 
> Let me know what you thought! How do you think it may end? :D
> 
> As always, I love all of you <3 (lol), and thanks for stopping by!


	30. Where's The Kidnapped?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Lexa talk about the aftermath of the fight.

''Do you know where Madi is?'' Clarke asked, worriedness apparent in her features as she burst into the abode, leaving the door swinging. ''She hadn't told me about her leave. I checked the creek, our farm, the outermost forests and our rooms. Did she tell you anything?''

Lexa bit her lip, and stared at her legs. A prickle of worry aroused inside her: _was Lexa’s legs hurting again?_

But the reality was far worse _._ ''Emerson took Madi,'' was what Lexa breathed out instead, and the sinking feeling in Clarke's gut plummeted.

''Shit. Fuck.'' Clarke groaned and slammed her fists into the table. Then, casting a desolate glance at Lexa, she finally noticed Lexa's bruised wounds. ''Shit. Are you okay?''

Clarke rushed over to her, snatching a roll of gauze along the way, as Lexa winced in pain. ''Fine, Clarke,'' she said out, amid gritted teeth. ''For now. I… may need more bandages.''

Clarke didn't say anything but rolled out a small stretch of gauze. Lexa adjusted herself, slightly, as Clarke knelt in front her, and after that, bit her lip and held out the arm for Clarke.

'' _Goddamnit_ , Emerson,'' Clarke muttered, as unravelling the gauze on her arm, she began to bandage the wound. ''We should've never let him  _live._ Shouldn't've just  _ignored_ him like it was nothing. Shouldn't've stopped trying to find him after that  _trap_ … damnit, why'd we  _stop_?''

''I'm sorry,'' Lexa supplied, her eyes flittering away, as Clarke bound Lexa's wound, a slight aggressiveness tinged into it now as she secured the binding.

''Shit. Madi,'' Clarke groaned. As if she was lost in her thoughts. And then, her eyes flickering back to meet Lexa's, as if just registering her words for the first time. ''Don't be sorry,'' she said. And then, hefting a sigh, she whispered out: ''It's his fault. Not yours.''

Lexa let out a whistle in frustration. ''But it  _was_ ,  _Clarke_. I could've killed him in a mere heartbeat. Ended the fight so much earlier. He wouldn't've kidnapped  _Madi_ ,'' She almost grunted in frustration. ''There were so many  _openings_ , Clarke. So many  _flaws_  in his stance, so many  _openings_  for killing blows, but I couldn't do anything about it. Because of this.'' she scoffed, and glared at her immobile legs.

Clarke gazed at Lexa for one, long moment, and then she sighed. ''Lexa, if there's anything I know that's true, it's that Madi's not your fault. Sure, you might've been able to kill him  _before_ , and yes, you couldn't  _now_ —but there's no point in dwelling on the  _might've been._ ''

Lexa almost scoffed, but it had felt reminiscent. ''Doesn't make it any less true.''

Finally, Clarke sighed, as Lexa looked away from Clarke's eyes, that were trained on her, too closely. ''… okay,'' she said. ''It might be true. But dwelling on it doesn't make it any less broken. Like how dwelling on Emerson doesn't change anything.'' There was a slight sigh. ''There's nothing we can do about it—at least, not with what we have now. And because it's the present now, we've got Emerson to deal with. So.'' and there was a pause. ''What do you propose?''

''Kill him,'' she said simply, and she returned to meet Clarke's gaze in front of her. ''A road marks his blood, Clarke. He retreats to his sanctuary—Madi should be there—or at least, I believe so. It could be direct—''

''—or it could be a trap.'' Clarke sighed and closed her eyes. ''Shit.''

''There is nothing we can do for either,'' Lexa continued, and even so, she bit back a sigh. ''We are playing at his game now, Clarke. Madi—Mad is the bargaining chip. Even if we do discover his plans—it would not matter, much. Unless…''

But there was a glimmer in Lexa's eyes. Something akin to a fire, dancing around a pyre in the black. And realisation slowly dawned on Clarke's features. ''Unless we play along.''

Lexa nodded, and looked straight at Clarke. ''… Emerson loathes  _you._  You are Wanheda, Clarke. For him, it is personal now. He may hate me for what I've done to his body, but your crimes to his people are immortalised in his mind.'' There was a breath, as she looked at Clarke with resolve. ''He is unpredictable. Insanity consumes him; there is nothing rational left within him now. Yet no madman thrives on madness—rather, on the act of driving  _others_  mad.''

''So we go,'' Clarke said, as Lexa's plan seeped into her mind. ''We play along with whatever mad scheme he has. T-to distract him from Madi.''

''Yes, Clarke.'' Lexa said. ''To distract him. And once she is safe—once she is out of his grasp—we can kill him.'' There was a long, slow breath, as Lexa's gaze hardened. ''But make no mistake, Clarke—this ends in death. Whether it be ours or his.''

There was nothing, for a moment, until Clarke nodded slightly. ''Yeah,'' she said, almost a swallow, and it came out as a soft whisper.

Lexa gazed at the stricken Clarke for one moment, her face clear in distress, desolation, fear and all else that must've plagued both their minds.

And Lexa kissed her softly. Clarke breathed into the kiss, and when they broke away, Lexa leaned in, and kissed Clarke again. And when it ended, too quickly, Clarke had moved in for the third—but then they had both froze when they remembered, all too clearly, the predicament of their situation they were currently in.

Moved apart a little, despite neither wanting to. Both of their eyes had lingered on the other's lips, until they had both looked away. Clarke's expression softened, as she made eye contact with Lexa, who was biting her lip, not meeting Clarke's eyes.

Finally, it was Lexa who spoke at last. ''We have to go, Clarke,'' she said, and it was soft, yet throaty.

At last, Clarke nodded, and got up from the floor. Without another word, Clarke grabbed a half-slung backpack, pushed it over her shoulder, and racing over to the broken weapons rack, she grabbed two guns, ammo, and strapped two daggers to her legs. When she moved back to Lexa, she extended out one of the guns to her.

''Take this,'' Clarke said to Lexa, handing her one of the guns. ''Just in-case, yeah?''

Sighing, Lexa took the gun. Even if she didn't like it and even if it did bring bad memories, it was a weapon one way or another.

She swallowed, and cast her eyes to the open abode door. ''Let's go. We follow the bloody trail.''

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... everything's culminating into a finale. :) And I have a question (well, techincally two) for all of you— how do you think it will all end? Do you think everyone's going to come out alive, or is it just not possible?
> 
> And I also have another question (I swear, this is the last one) - but would you all prefer longer chapters, or shorter ones? Just curious, because I feel like 1k~so chapters aren't necessarily enough and doesn't have enough meat to sink into before it ends. I'm not sure what the schedule would be for longer chapters, but I'm imagining them around 3k+ words long each, and maybe a little longer in between updates? If so, I'd begin to post longer chapters for the 3rd Year when it starts. 
> 
> As always - thank you so much for reading, I don't know what'd I do without all you loyal readers (and especially commenters! You all bring me life :D) and make me incredibly excited to write for this universe <3


	31. Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This could only end in death.

The green forests were a stark contrast to the black blood they followed.

It wasn't an unusual scene—blood was regularly spilt in the forests, whether if it were an animal's or theirs—it was there. But  _this_  trail sent cold lightning through her spine—for, it was a reminder, that  _this_  could only end in one way.

Death.

The blood that stained the green undergrowth edged them on. They had advanced quietly, weapons drawn; or at least, as quiet as shoes and wheels would let them.

The blood-flow was sporadic. So sporadic, in fact, that Clarke wondered if Emerson had managed to salvage his wounds in some way—after all, he  _did_  get into a fight with Lexa, and to envision getting away from a fight with Lexa uninjured was like provoking a beast and having it not attack. Damage was expected, and there was definitely wounds on both ends.

(Especially with the bloodied hand she saw lying in their abode, that had matted the floorboards wet, which Clarke was pretty sure belonged to the neither of them.)

Sometimes, they feared that they would lose the trail entirely—but those fears didn't usually last long. And so, for what felt so long yet short, all the same, they had eventually followed the bloodstained trail to a cave.

They were greeted with the sight of Carl Emerson, wielding a stolen gun in one hand and a bound stump in another, and Madi under his handless grasp.

''I've been expecting you,'' was what he drawled out, once his gaze flickered to Clarke. Madi was writhing under his grasp, and Clarke felt her heart harden. And at her lack of response— ''C'mon, Clarke. Don't you even remember the last Mountain Man's name?''

''Emerson,'' Clarke gritted out, her gun pointing straight at Emerson's chest. She felt like she was on fire. Her brain felt like screaming; all she saw was red. ''Put down your gun.''

''Less so your girlfriend, though,'' he said, gaze turning to Lexa, as if oblivious to both their guns. ''Who thought bringing your crippled girlfriend here was a good idea?'' Emerson's smile was low, lazy, mocking. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lexa shift. Her finger, all-too-steady on the trigger, twitched.

_Don't forget the plan, Lexa,_ she attempted to communicate—even as she gripped on her gun; even as Clarke herself recited the plan in her mind—because her finger twitched as well.

''Funny, isn't it?'' Emerson said, his smile mocking. ''How everything falls. First my people, and then  _yours_  is thrown into ruin. I'd like to think that I was a cause.''

There was a growl, a heft of a gun. '' _Shof op, Maunon,_ '' was gritted out.

Emerson only grinned. And her ears roared for blood; war drums of the past drowned out any sense of reasoning; as every bone in her body screamed for blood. From the corner of her eye she saw a bristling Lexa; in front of her stood Madi and a monster. And then, Clarke realised that she couldn't bring herself to care about the plan anymore.

_No! Shit. Can't drive myself mad now._

Almost as if he'd noticed her expression, Emerson's grin widened. And then, almost in response, Emerson dug his gun harshly into Madi's head, which caused an involuntary whimper. ''Who says?'' he drawled, his eyes trained on Lexa. And when there was a click of a gun, Emerson's gaze jolted back to Clarke—still in a lazy grin, and she felt her blood boil. He pushed the gun against Madi's head. ''Shoot me and I'll shoot her.''

Clarke felt herself bristle. And Emerson didn't seem to notice but continued on. ''Now, the rules are pretty simple, Clarke. I can let this kid live on a condition.  _Bring_  that girlfriend of yours here, surrender yourself and put down your weapon.'' And his smile widened, and Clarke felt her stomach churn with sickness, and a snarl came from the far side—Lexa's, as if to show how  _willing_  she was. ''Pretty simple.'' he drawled on, ignoring her. ''And then you might finally understand  _a smidgen_ of the pain you've tortured my people with. And  _she'll_ understand a fragment of pain from  _then_ ,'' he spat out, as Lexa snarled again. ''If not, then… be prepared to say your  _goodbyes._ ''

Emerson jabbed the gun at a wincing Madi's head. A lazy smile still on his face. ''Won't it be the ultimate blasted irony? Or karma?'' And with a shrug, ''Whichever I suppose suits you—it'll still be mine.''

Madi whimpered something out, but that was gone when Emerson pushed the gun against her head. His eyes still trained on Clarke, the smile, the goddamn  _smile_  still in his breath: '' _Hell_ , I might even let  _you_  live after this, just so you can experience some of  _my_ pain.''

''But you won't, would you?'' Clarke spat. ''Because this's your game about surviving. A game where only one kind can live. Only one of  _us._ ''

Emerson's lazy smile was still there. ''S'pose you could say that,'' he said finally. ''But you'll be lyin' to yourself if you think it ain't true—hell—the reason you're here is 'cause you know it's true, isn't it? So you can kill me and take her back?'' he said, and Clarke gripped against her gun. ''Hell,'' he said, and looked away from her to Lexa, ''Grounder Queen over there knows it. Only person that doesn't—'' and he took a heaving breath, tore his gaze from his gun to meet  _theirs—_ but it wasn't out of mock or sarcasm, but because he couldn't stand to look at somewhere else. Something  _else_ plagued his expression _—_ a blink and it was gone— and he didn't finish his sentence.

''You go low, don't you?'' Clarke spat finally. ''Setting traps all around Shallow Valley to find us. Kidnapping  _our kid,''_ she said with a low growl. ''All for what? Revenge?''

''Full marks for the second and third, not so much the first though,'' Emerson said, a tinge of haughtiness in his voice. ''Yeah, I had a trap,'' Emerson sneered. ''Wasn't that useful, was it, in a wasteland of dead?''

At this, Lexa scoffed, and glared at him in spite. ''You were there.''

Emerson seemed irritated for a moment, before it was replaced with anger. ''You're wrong, but you know what? I don't give a shit.'' His glare turned from Lexa to Clarke. ''Now,  _turn_   _yourselves_  over, and I'll let  _her_ go free _._ My people at least deserve that retribution.''

Beside her, there came a sound of what seemed like a suppressed guffaw. Clarke would've gaped at his utter lunacy, but instead scoffed. ''Don't kid yourself, Emerson. This isn't about your people. Your people are  _long gone._ You probably don't even remember their names. This is for  _yourself_.''

''Yeah, and don't I deserve it, after what you've done to me?'' Emerson scowled, and jerked Madi closer and forced the muzzle of the gun to the temple of her head as Madi stifled a cry, empathising what he was about to do if Clarke didn't listen. Lexa's hold on her gun was steady—Clarke's, less so. ''First, you kill all of my people. My  _family_.  _My_   _friends_. Then, you have the gall to have me  _executed_ for it. And then you change your mind, set me free and let me suffer some more, and now you won't even let me  _die._ Who's the true villain here, huh?''

He snarled, and his glare spanned from Clarke to Lexa. ''And that's not even getting started on  _all_  of what  _you've_ done,'' he spat as if the words on his lips physically disgusted him. ''You've messed with  _everything._ All our lives. Sounded the war-horn; caused this  _fight,''_ he snarled. ''Y-your kind murdered my people. Nearly very well  _killed_   _me,''_ he growled, and Lexa remained impassive. ''And of course, now I've got a hand instead of  _two_  because of you.''

Lexa scoffed and returned his glare, her voice filled with scorn. ''Villainy isn't restrained to kind.''

Emerson scoffed. Clarke didn't respond but aimed a cold hard stare at Emerson. ''Put down your gun,'' she repeated monotonously, even as her own gun shook in her hands. Her voice was hard—yet it came out almost inaudible. ''Put it down.''

''You do it for your people, blah blah blah,  _whatever_. Well, guess what?'' Emerson snarled. ''I have  _my_  people too.  _My_  people that you killed to save  _yours. My people_ that I care— _cared,_ about.  _My_  people that I can sacrifice for. So why'd you blame me for threatening yours, huh, when you haven't so much as spared a  _glance_ at mine?''

Madi murmured something inaudible under her breath, and no one seemed to notice. Then, Emerson nodded upwards at Clarke and Lexa. ''Now, c'mon over here,  _bring_   _yourself_  and  _your_   _fucking_   _girlfriend_ , before I paint this girl's brains over the cave!''

Clarke glared at him and held her gun firmly at Emerson's heart. ''You wouldn't.''

Emerson held up his head, shoved Madi closer to his chest and readjusted his grip on his gun. ''Oh, yeah? Who says so? No one talks about any rules 'bout killin' little kids.'' He flashed a wicked smile, his tooth glinting in the lights among the stalactites, and Clarke felt sick in her heart.

From Madi came a low whimper. 

''And who'd help you? Your cripple girlfriend?  _This little kid?''_ At his words, Clarke blistered and readjusted her unsteady grip on her gun, her shaking finger to the trigger, while Emerson smirked smugly at his triumph. Lexa had growled; her own finger on the gun, steady,  _steady_  enough to shoot.

''Thought not. You won't kill me, Clarke,'' Emerson drawled, pressing his gun against Madi's head one final time. ''You've had too many chances already. Too bad your conscience tells you to keep  _the last of the endangered Mountain Men alive._ Neither'll the Grounder Queen, _''_ he said, the shrinking light reflecting his low smile. ''Because she's oh-so  _honourable,_ and leaves the choice for you to make. Besides,'' and this his focus turned back to himself, to his stump and the bloodied hole that soaked his shirt, and there was rue that tinged his face, ''she's got enough damage in already.'' 

Then, his eyes flittering over the walls of the cave, a wicked smile gloating on his face; ''Y'know, the more I think about it, the more  _dry_  the cave walls are…''

_Now._

Clarke hefted her gun, and suddenly, Madi bit down  _hard_  on Emerson's stump. Emerson let out a bewildered scream, as he dropped his gun and clutched at his bleeding stump. Two shots rang out from beside her; before Clarke could pull the trigger; caught him in the stomach both times, sending two spurts of blood flying from his chest.

There was a gurgle. A shuddered groan; a gasp.

Without wasting a moment, taking advantage of his dazedness, Clarke marched up to him and pistol-whipped Emerson across the face, sending a spout of blood flying, and he lay there on the cave floor, utter surprise coloured with fear and blood forever etched on his face.

''This is for all of us.''

And two shots rang out, and Emerson saw nothing but black.

…

They dug a grave.

Clarke found a rusty shovel in one of the abodes in Shallow Valley. She didn't bother to find a newer one. After dragging his bleeding body from the cave, each bump on the ground jostling the blood from his mouth and frothing the brain matter leaking from the hole in his head, she couldn't be more done to never see that face again. Once she found a spot, somewhere not far away from his bastard cave, between two hanging trees and a valley stretching outwards, Clarke began to dig. And dug some more.

She dug deep—deep enough so that when the dirt piled into the tomb when they spread the leftovers over the soft mush and patted it down with the back of their shovels, there would be no dirt mound left. No reminders of the person buried in the ground. And she chose a fairly obscure spot in the midst of a forest near a valley, in a hope that she'd never manage to find the grave by accident ever.

She didn't need the memories dragging her down. The title of Wanheda was enough already.

Lexa was beside her, contemplating the scene, as she watched Clarke go further into digging in the ground. She had helped with digging the dirt at first, throwing dirt mound after dirt behind her with a shovel, seemingly choosing to funnel her rage into the seclusion of a grave, until she had to stop when Clarke dug too deep, out of her reach. And so she sat by the grave's side, eyeing the mosquitoes that picked at Emerson's flesh, as Clarke spent her furious energy into throwing dirt mound after dirt mound over her shoulder, splashing into a huge, sloshing mound.

It had reminded her, all too eerily, of the day when they stumbled upon Shallow Valley, and found its inhabitants irradiated, incinerated by the radiation, as though Praimfaya had missed them, the radiation certainly didn't hold back. They, both stunned into shock, insisted to build a tomb for their remains, but the project was abandoned when it proved too large a scale to handle. It was with shame they took the remains and emptied them in an already-dug out pit which they had found during a hunting session—one of Emerson's pit traps, she realised that now—and used whatever dirt was left to fill the pit.

And yet now they were digging a grave for one man—a despicable man, one unworthy of a grave that should've filled with the hundreds that deserved the dignity instead—for Lexa knew that Clarke would've left him rotting in his cave if she had a choice, and Lexa would've done the same, if not for Madi's crestfallen face at their discussion, and her nagging, insistent hope that he be buried as any other man deserved.

Even if Emerson was her kidnapper.

Madi had a light in her, which Lexa truly wished would not break. For the world trapped in darkness deserved a candle's flame, and even if the light was engulfed in darkness, it was still a light all the same.

And, Lexa supposed, Emerson deserved a bit of retribution from them as well—for he was nothing but a product of their decisions, a scorning aftermath of the choices they've made in vain. She could make no excuse for that.

''Grounder tradition had it that all enemies were buried.'' Lexa murmured as she observed Clarke's jabs into the dirt as if Mother Earth were her sworn enemy. Which, unusual as it were, wasn't entirely untrue if Praimfaya was any testament to that. ''Though there was no need for names—all of them were hailed as warriors, once the wars were done.''

Though it elicited no response from Clarke, except another furious mound thrown over her shoulder that settled into the slush pile. ''Will you leave his name on his grave?''

At this, Clarke shook her head, jabbing the shovel into the dirt one hard time. ''Unmarked stone. None of us wants to remember.''

Lexa's lips curled, almost sardonically. ''Then it is settled. No one will remember the Maroun.''

If anything, Clarke jabbed the dirt harder with the tip of her shovel at her sentence, which hit the solid rock on the bottom with a  _thrum_. No one  _would_  remember the Maroun—except her, and Lexa, and all the other Grounders, that was, who would only remember the name  _Wanheda_ and the legend it told _._ Nothing less. Nothing more.

Sighing, Clarke wiped the sweat from her forehead, and with eyes too tired, beckoned to Lexa as she pushed herself out of the pit.

Lexa bent downwards and threw the tarp over Emerson, covering his unblinking face and the mosquitoes crawling in the hole in his head. His body now fully-wrapped and covered, Clarke proceeded to tighten the tarp surrounding Emerson's body with rope.

''I wish this's worth the tarp,'' Clarke grunted as she quickly did clove hitches to tighten the tarp. The knot was barely tight and loosely tied, combined with the fact that she used clove hitches—which was a testament to the amount Clarke really bothered. Then, tying the last knot, she wiped her hands with an exhausted sigh. ''Why can't we just roll him in? Would be much easier than having to push his body into the tarp and lifting his body with every knot…'' Clarke didn't shudder, but Lexa could see that Clarke wished she could. But not with the tiredness that accompanied a day that went on for far too long.

''We could, but I would rather not scrape off his remains from my tires tonight,'' Lexa replied, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. ''Gore goes everywhere, Clarke.''

''What we would've given to  _not_ know that,'' Clarke sighed back. But then, her eyes bit back a sigh as she stared at the newly-wrapped Emerson's remains. Without another word or an adieu, Clarke nudged the body in, as it fell into the grave with a thump.

The couple exchanged a look. The catharsis never came.

Clarke handed Lexa a shovel, and they began to fill the grave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that concludes the finale! I'd love it if you let me know what you thought about it :D - and I'd like to thank you all loyal readers for sticking with me for so far <3
> 
> As for the 3k word chapters - I think I will be going with those for future chapters, starting with Year Three. I'm not sure of the update schedule yet, but it'd probably be finalized in the next few days or so.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! <3


	32. Fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why couldn't we just forget?

It was dusk when Madi visited Carl Emerson's grave.

Clarke had brought her there after Madi had insisted her to. Over the ridges and through the forests and near a valley that was all too familiar. Madi didn't memorise the route. She didn't need to.

 _Why did you play that facade, Carl?_  Madi thought in distress, as she stared on his grave. She knew him enough. Knew him enough that he might've put a gun on her, but would've never pulled the trigger. Because, she thought but was never certain yet it  _was,_  because she reminded him of  _them._ His old family.

But was it? Or was Madi just a simple convenience, someone that he could've just used and manipulated to his own liking? She—she didn't like the thought at all.

He didn't want to kill her. He—he said that he wouldn't've cared about killing a child, to Clarke and Lexa, but he  _did_ care, didn't he? Because his own children were killed when Clarke pulled a lever? Or was it the opposite—was it  _because_  his children were killed by Clarke that he became indifferent, apathetic to it all?

She knew him enough that it was all an act. Wasn't it? He—he couldn't've been all serious about everything he said. Some was exaggerated sure, because—because it just simply couldn't  _be,_ because he was unlike the other Maunon and—and he was  _different,_ she knew, but then why'd he have to say and do all the mean things the tales said the Maunon did? So—so he was  _alike_ the other Maunon, but  _wasn't_ all the same? How'd—how'd that  _work?_

Everything was just so  _complicated_. And Madi winced every time her mind replayed the mean things he'd said about Lexa and Clarke. Because… he couldn't've  _meant_ it all, could he? But a part of her heart told her that he didn't  _care_ at the time, that he  _insulted_  all he could, all 'cause he wanted to hurt them, cut them  _deep_ , like—like what she did to him? Like when she said he couldn't be anything other than  _Maunon?_

(—did he?)

(Was it?)

Or was it because he knew that he was going to die, so he wanted to get all those jabs and insults and everything that was in his mind but never did say in, so they all knew what he was  _thinking_? So he could shout into something that wasn't a void, but at something he could scowl at and attack? Was it so that he could spit into Clarke and Lexa's faces before he died?

Clarke and Lexa decided not to put his name on a headstone. All that marked it was the fresh dirt, surrounded by weeds and grass and flowers.

(And for all the more better—for if future generations came, and remembered the Wanheda's tales—then what would've they done but desecrated and spat on his grave?)

 _Why did you give me that opening?_ Was it because he couldn't stand the thought of holding her hostage? Was it because he knew when it came to it, he wouldn't be able to shoot her? Was it because he wanted to finish it, once and for all?

_And then she felt cold metal press against her head._

_''Go.'' Carl's voice was emotionless. Cold, stoic, like the barrel of the gun that shook against her head. ''Go, or I shoot!''_

_Fear. Something ingrained in all humans, a trigger for a flight-or-fight response, the very reason that powered people's wills to survive. Survive. She should feel fear, she knows, but there was nothing but a void staring back at her._

_But she didn't feel nothing either. Something spawned in the void. Was it kindness? Trust? An odd sensation of acceptance? And then… sadness? Sorrow?_

_Pity?_

_Her lip had quivered, but it was not because of fear. ''No, Carl.'' she said. ''I was wrong. You're not just Maunon. You don't have to die 'cause you think it's the only way this can end.''_

_For a moment, Carl seemed to fear. Fear that she was right? That he was wrong? Or was it the opposite; knowing that he was right, knowing what he had to do was a must—or maybe it was something else, maybe it was simple fear that he'd have to kill her after all?_

_He'd said, told her the last heartfelt words she'd ever hear from him. ''That's all I am to them.''_

_Fear. He'd felt fear. But it was only a moment, and it was gone._

_Why couldn't've you just told them that you wanted to change?_ They'd talked. She and Carl—oh Spirits, they've talked  _so much_ , so  _many_  times. About  _his_  people and Madi's. He told tales, and she listened. And she told tales of theirs, tales that didn't involve Maunon but Commanders and horses instead—and Madi felt like she'd known his people as well as he knew hers, and she felt like there was a chance. So, why didn't it  _work_?! Why did they insist on  _separating_  the Krus? Separating  _Maunon_  and  _Grounder_?

 _Why did you let them put that blame on you?_ He didn't set the trap. And if his words were true, then it would mean that it was someone else,  _somebody_  else out there that did it. So why did he take the blame when it wasn't even  _him_  that  _did it?!_

_Was it because it was easier to take the fall for a misunderstanding, instead of trying to fix it—was it the easy way out?_

_Why couldn't've you have given them a chance?_ At negotiations. At a chance of peace, of harmony, of  _living_  without a road of death. And though the answer was what Madi feared—for what if Carl said was true? That his people and hers couldn't live in harmony?—why couldn't he just  _try?_

_Is it because it is harder to change than it is to stay as you were?_

_Is it because of the past that was a looming shadow, a burden that all of us carried around? The past that dictated our future fates, whether if we liked it or not?_

_Is it because—you felt—that there was no way you would become truly ''us'', even if they've accepted and you had joined our Clan?_

_Why did there need to be_ **_us_ ** _and_ **_them_ ** _?_

Madi shook her head and taking a drawing she'd sketched, placed it on the grave. In the sketch, he was smiling. Laughing as they told each other their people's tales. Nothing of hate, of anger, or revenge.

 _I'm sorry, Carl._ Madi's eyes shone as she looked at the unmarked grave, the falling sun's rays shining in her wet eyes.

_But I swear to you… no one should ever die again because they were someone's people, or not._

_I swear._

…

And after it was all over, after they'd settled back into their abode, Madi had the time to think.

 _Carl Emerson, Mount Weather Security Detail._ That was what Clarke called him with a spit, her tone indicating his name like it was a curse. And maybe Madi could understand why, if his people had killed 250 of theirs and 50 of Clarke's… but she didn't.

Wasn't it in the past? Why did it matter now, in the present after Praimfaya, when all they wanted to do was to  _survive?_

She had talked with Lexa about Carl. Innocently, at first: asking questions like  _what made him do it?_ and  _what happened?_ Even if she knew the answer, she wanted to hear it from Lexa's perspective. From a Commander's.

''Our people over his,'' Madi had mumbled after Lexa talked about the difference between  _our people_ and  _everyone else_.  _Us over him._

Lexa had glanced sharply up at her, seemingly missing what Madi had said. ''What?''

Madi had shook her head, mumbled a small: ''nothin''' then. But it wasn't nothing, was it? Carl could've  _survived._ He wouldn't've needed to act the part of a monster, wouldn't've needed to provoke and to die in vain—all in the name of what? Of quelling tensions? Of accepting that it could only be  _us or him?_ Of giving into the ''inevitable'', as he'd put it so much? Of, when choosing  _me_  or  _them_ , he chose  _them,_ because of what?

Because of  _her_?

 _He could've survived,_  she thought again and again and again. He wouldn't've needed to be shot by Clarke, a spurt of blood and a shower of brains exploding the ground…  _Spirits_ , she couldn't wipe the images from her mind.

The only thing setting them back was their  _pasts_.

_Why couldn't we just forget?_

…

It was night.

Clarke had broke into their rations for the night. She couldn't be bothered to hunt. Not when the day had gone on for far too long, not when they were all too tired for it. Lexa was cleaning her wheels, fixing and bolting up the wheelchair, and Clarke wasn't going to ask Madi, either.

And so Clarke took three full-ration packs (there was no point in rationing it now, even if she  _did_  want to be prepared for the worst), and placed two around the table; and passed one to Lexa, who was in progress with fixing the wheelchair. She had taken it with a slight nod, her eyes still fixated on her chair, but it was appreciated nonetheless. 

Madi had come in last. And after they were finished; they sat around the table, quiet, as if each of them were recalling the events that transferred the day beforehand.

Clarke didn't want to remember. She couldn't, not when everything that floated past her mind involved the Maunon, a lever, and too many echoing screams. Not when all she saw was scarred bodies, marred by the radiation with blisters and swelling, identical to hers when Praimfaya happened. Not when all she heard was the shot of a gun, twice, and the fall of a feverish body, scowling even in death. Not when all she remembered was  _him_.

But Madi certainly did.

"'Clarke _…''_ Madi began, looking at her with something she could only describe as curiosity and… a slight fear? _''_ Why'd you call me…  _that?'_ " Madi said, glancing at Clarke in question. And when slight confusion seemed to pass Clarke's face— '' _'Our kid_ ','' Madi quoted.

There came a choke from the far side of the room. Clarke felt a surge of hot emotions burst, mostly fear and embarrassment (because  _danger_  if it came out by accident) but soon settled it down into impassivity. "Sorry about that, Madi," she schooled her emotions to calmness carefully, "Spur of the moment."

Madi shook her head, once, twice, and gazed at Clarke in the eyes. "No, I mean... is it true?" she asked, her tone a haze. ''Y-you call me  _your_   _family_?''

Clarke's eyes flickered from Madi to Lexa, as if mentally pleading for help. However, Lexa only chuckled, and cast her eyes to the wheelchair, as if telling her that it was her fault and that she had none to do with it.  _Damnit, Lexa, help me._

Pressing her arms against the table, she bit her lip, but her brain stuttered and failed to find an alternative explanation. But when she growled the words, spat it at Emerson, she realised… she meant every bit of it. "... Yeah." And then, eyes changing to Madi: "I meant it."

And suddenly, Clarke felt a ball of warmth barge into her. It was all she could do not to double over at the strength Madi was hugging her at, her face buried in Clarke's clothes. She could hear incoherent sniffles coming from her shirt. Clarke smiled, a small, saddened smile, and with considerably less strength, put her arms around Madi as well, and immersed herself in the Nightblood's hug.

Enough to forget about Emerson, or the Maruon, or the needless lives taken.

…

Madi had crawled into her bed. All too eager to forget about the day, even if she might've— _no_ , she  _knew_  she would see them in her nightmares, as Lexa followed her into her room.

''... so, Madi.'' Lexa cleared her throat, as Madi opened a window, feeling the cold wind blast her face, and wiggled into the midst of her blanket. ''I want to speak to you. About Emerson.''

''What?'' Madi backed away to the back of her bed, grasping her blankets, glaring at Lexa accusingly. ''He deserved to be buried.''

''I'm not saying he didn't.''

Madi didn't seem to hear Lexa, but mumbled on. ''Even if he isn't  _our_  people, he's still human. And humans help each other.'' Then, a quieter mumble, eyes flickering to the bed: ''And—an' we have a duty to our people, but our duty to  _us_ —to the all of  _us_ —is m-more important t-than that. Isn't it?''

Nervousness, doubt was etched into her last words, as if asking for Lexa's confirmation. Lexa chuckled, sad, wistful, nostalgic. ''It is, Madi. But sometimes, we divide each other so much that we don't see  _humans_  anymore, but  _us_  and  _them_.'' There was a slight sigh, as she looked away. ''I... cannot say that we had made a mistake. Not when he had threatened you.'' And this, Madi looked away from her eyes; as if she couldn't meet her gaze. 

''B-but killin' him? W-was that t-the right thing?'' Madi asked, her voice hoarse, her eyes vulnerable, as she looked back at Lexa. 

''Killing is never right,'' Lexa finally said, looking at Madi in the eyes. ''But sometimes, when we are not living but  _surviving—_ sometimes, it is a necessity. If we want to live.'' 

Madi looked away from her. And that was when Lexa cleared her throat, and said. ''But it does not mean that killing is not a mistake.'' 

Then, quieter, a soft sigh came from her. At this, Madi gazed at Lexa; and saw that she had looked away from her, and that eyes were wistful as it shimmered. ''And as much as I hate to admit it, Clarke and I... we made that mistake.''

'' _Then_?'' Madi's voice was hoarse. ''Or now?''

Lexa didn't respond, but a sad smile twinkled in her eyes. Clearing her throat, she said instead: ''I wish you would not come close to making the same mistake as we did.''

And with this, Madi looked away from her, as if she didn't want to meet her eyes. And with a sigh, Lexa said:

''See everyone not as your people, but as humans. As a whole.'' And though it wasn't effective advice for a Commander, Lexa was not raising a Commander now.

She was raising a child.

And so, with all her heart and all the hope Lexa had, she taught Madi the one lesson Madi would need in life: treat everyone as your people, as humans, because they deserved to be treated so. Because if not, then who else would?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D That's definitely not it for Year One!
> 
> We'll be definitely be seeing some more aftermath from everything that's happened, and there will be, of course, some Clexa + Madi bonding. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought - all your comments are so very appreciated and taken with love <3 And I'd love it if you could answer this question— did Carl Emerson deserve to die?
> 
> Thank you! <3


	33. Can't Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spirits.

**AFTERMATH …**

_536 days since Praimfaya._

Two months. Two months since Carl Emerson, and Madi still wasn't the same.

She had  _seemed_  okay, or as  _okay_ as someone who was kidnapped by one of the four last survivors on Earth could be, but the change was evident. She had spoken less, had become slightly more serious, and nightmares had plagued her every night—if the screaming alone wasn't testament to that already.

They had tried everything—from crafting to spear-fishing to scavenging—basically  _anything_  that could take the subject off Madi's mind. And sometimes, it had worked—sometimes, Madi was engaged and joyful and laughed when she could. But other times—other times, when her mind was set on those other subjects, when she was sad and sombre and wouldn't speak a word, it was near-impossible to wrench her out of those funks.

And now, Clarke and Madi were out spear-fishing—one of Madi's favourite pastimes, one that Clarke wholeheartedly supported for the amount of food it yielded—but Madi had been intensely quiet for the past 20 minutes, focusing on nothing but the fishing—whereas other times she would've grinned, conserved with Clarke about Skaikru and the ones above, and set competitions as to  _who can catch the most fish within 10 minutes?_ and such. Which was why Clarke felt so unsettled and it had felt so  _unusual,_ because Madi wasn't speaking and had been prodding the river halfheartedly, like she was trying to spear the algae instead of the fish.

And so, after half an hour had passed, Clarke was the one who broke the sombre silence.

''I-I never actually asked you this, but—did you learn how to spear-fish yourself?'' Clarke said, with a small, attempted chuckle, as Madi turned away momentarily from her algae-prodding to face her. ''Or-or did someone teach you?''

Madi was quiet for a moment, her spear teetering in her hand. '' _Ai sis_  taught me,'' she mumbled, and refocused on the creek, spear held tightly in formation with her stance.

Oh.  _Oh._ And as Clarke's brain stuttered for a response, her mouth worked before her words; and she realised that anything could be made worse when messed up enough. ''Ca-can you tell me her name?''

Madi didn't respond, but tore her eyes away from Clarke, and gazed at the creek.  _Way to go, Clarke. What a great conversation-starter you've got there_.

''That's alright,'' Clarke reassured, trying her best to backtrack.  _Goddamnit,_   _why did, out of all things, did she manage to bring THAT up?!_

Madi still wouldn't meet her eyes. And it was then when she turned back away to face the creek, hefting the spear in her hand. Finally, all options out of the window, Clarke decided to just follow down the rocks and into the creek.

''Hey, do you want to race?'' she said, in an attempt to bring the Nightblood out of her thoughts. ''First one to spear five fishes win.''

Madi didn't respond but flickered her gaze away from Clarke. And Clarke felt all sorts of terrible things surge through her mind because really, she didn't  _mean_  to bring that back up and mess up Madi's composure. And then Clarke's gaze found her foot, because she couldn't meet her eyes, and then—

''You're on!'' Madi said with a grin, as she burst towards the other side of the creek, splashing water as she waded through the thin side of the river. And Clarke had to blink once, twice, to process what had just happened—and when she did, Clarke couldn't stifle back a smile as she yelled behind her, mock-offended: ''Wait up! That's cheating!''

Madi had only grinned under her breath—grinned enough, at least, that no-one could truly see the sadness that was the smile, so Clarke couldn't see that it had made her only sadder— and with a breath, waded on.

…

_Sixth Night._

_Dreamt about him. And them. They were so happy. Clarke and Lexa and Nomon and Nontu and bro an' sis. We were really happy together. Playing games, spear-fishing, having a good life in Polis. But then a shadow appeared, and we weren't happy anymore._

_Don't wanna think about it._

…

Madi's expression had troubled Lexa ever since they had left for hunt.

She had seemed downtrodden; unhappy. Her posture was slumped; the spear appeared to be dead-weight in her hand; she had practically dragged her shoes one in front of another as she ambled to the hunt.

It had become obvious, after they had spotted birds in the sky in an open field, circling low; and Lexa had pulled her bow out, gesturing Madi to take it—but when there was no reaction, she knew that something was wrong.

Madi's heart was not in the hunt. And that was as damaging as not being able to shoot a bow accurately or to catch prey for the night—for when her spirit was not into it, then skill did not matter anymore; everything would come crashing down alongside it all.

''Madi...'' Lexa said, concerned, as she sheathed her bow. Ignored the circling food in the sky for now. ''What is troubling you?''

Madi cast her eyes away. ''N-nothin','' she managed to stutter out, her eyes reaching out into the plain expanse, into the forests that surrounded them.

Lexa stared at her for one long moment, until she had shaken her head. Which had surprised Madi. A lot. And when Madi's gaze flickered back to her in slight shock, Lexa cleared her throat and said: ''It is not nothing, Madi. It is bothering you—thus, it is  _something.''_

Madi seemed troubled for a few moments, as she looked away from Lexa. And after one long period of silence, Madi finally said out: ''I-I dreamed of a-a shadow.''

She stole a glance at Lexa as if she was worried about Lexa's reaction. Lexa tilted her head, slightly. And finally, nodding upwards to Madi, Lexa said: ''Tell me more.''

...

_Tenth Night._

_Got a dream with Carl in it._

_It was all fun at first. We were around the fire and talking tales about the past. I saw pictures of his family—dunno where that came from, but it kinda just happened in my mind. I had talked to him about ai-sis and how GOOD she was with the spear and it was all really fun. But then the scene just changed and then it was blood all over the floor and there was two gunshots and I dunno what to think._

_I really shouldn't be writing this down if I wanna forget it. But I dunno, I've been getting this dream for the past few days an' I always wake up crying after it and I go to Lexa and Clarke's room but maybe writing it down will let myself forget it._

…

_566 days since Praimfaya. (1 year, 5 months)_

''Madi…'' Clarke bit her lip. Looked away from Lexa; she didn't know how to best start the subject, so she finally offered: ''She's been… different.''

Lexa cast her eyes out into the forests, a lush green that surrounded them without an animal in sight; as if there were no horrors sheltered under its canopy. She sighed and looked back to meet Clarke's distraught eyes. ''There is bound to be trauma from Carl Emerson, Clarke. That does not just fade.''

''I know,'' she murmured, almost half-heartedly. Her mind was on Madi—Clarke thought of her reluctance to hunt, her quietness with regards to anything Clarke and Lexa talked about, even when it regarded  _her_. Madi even stopped making trebuchets, which was something Clarke didn't think would ever happen—but of course, it would be because of this circumstance they were in now.

''We'll help her through it together.'' Clarke offered, but even then it had sounded halfhearted still—because how could they help someone who didn't even want to speak to them? There was a low sigh. ''God, Emerson.''

''It is not the time for regrets now,'' Lexa said with rue. And when Clarke didn't offer anything, she said, softly: ''We made the right choice, Clarke.''

Clarke looked away from her. She didn't meet Lexa's eyes. ''If only we made it earlier.''

There was a quiet, nearly inaudible, sigh. ''I wish we did. But there is no point in staying on the  _might have_ or the  _if only_ —you had said it yourself, Clarke. Regrets for the past does not change it.''

Clarke exhaled. She attempted a smile to lighten the mood, but it faltered. And so, with her sad smile, she said: ''Ever since Madi— it's been so long. Almost a year already. Can you believe that?'' she said, chuckling.

Lexa offered a low chuckle back. ''Taking care of a child is more taxing than I thought it is. Least, it is a… rather laborious task, compared to the taking care of my Natblida in Polis ever was.''

''You mean she's a handful,'' Clarke said, a half-smile surfacing on her face, and when Lexa glared at Clarke in indignancy at the point-blank statement, she had only smiled slightly more. ''And you taking care of those Nightblood was easier because you let them do god knows what. And well, we can't exactly just let them run off now, can you?''

''Running off is Madi's speciality.''

There was silence, as Clarke shrugged a smile. However, the smile had soon faltered, once her mind turned back to Madi's current situation.

There was a slow sigh, as Clarke looked away. ''I just… Emerson's not her fault. Nothing— _none_  of  _that_  was her fault. I just wish she knows that—and just stops  _blaming_  herself for it.''

''It may not be her fault, but she believes it so. And that is the worst responsibility can do.'' Lexa cleared her throat. ''We cannot take the responsibility from Madi's shoulders—because she will merely force it back onto herself. All we can do now is to distribute responsibility; shelve away the blame, and hope that she understands.''

Clarke chuckled lowly. ''I don't think Madi knows how it works,'' she said softly, and though it was a joke, it wasn't an entirely untruthful one at that.

Silence passed through them again, as the forest around them rustled.

Finally, Clarke's gaze turned away from the forests to meet Lexa. ''—Do you—do you think Bellamy and the others survived?''

It took some time until Lexa responded. ''I hope so.''

Clarke's lips quirked, as she thought about those in the sky. It was slightly ironic that  _her,_ the skai person, was on the ground, while there were some Grounders in the sky amid her friends now. ''We can find out, you know. With radios—''

Lexa sighed, almost in exasperation, as she looked at Clarke with an expression that just said  _really?_  ''We don't have radios right now, Clarke.''

Clarke's smile was still prevalent. ''We might get some in the future.'' she offered, and though it was said in a joking manner, there was sincerity beneath her tone.

Lexa, noticing Clarke's forlorn, wistful expression, said: ''We shall, Clarke.'' And when Clarke gazed at her with a mixture of shock and awe that quietly razed over her face, Lexa said, with even more conviction than before: ''We will.''

...

Madi was humming as she walked by the Wanheda and Heda kissing in the woods.

She yelped once the scene registered in her mind, ungraciously breaking herself out of her nice tune, choked out a tight sound that sounded suspiciously similar to a scream, and had quickly stifled the sound under a cupped mouth.

_OH SPIRITS OH SPIRITS OH SPIRITS._

That was something she did  _NOT_  need to see nor  _WANTED_  to see, thank you very much. Oh _Spirits!_  She did not need to see that, oh god. It was a LOT of… really intense kissing. That she did not need to witness. Especially NOT when it was between Clarke and Lexa, the two people that she really looked up to but did  _NOT_  need to see happen. Everything her mind was thinking about instantly glossed over once she saw that scene.  _Oh Spirits._

_GO AWAY GO AWAY GO AWAY._

She had considered cursing  _HEDAS ABOVE SAVE ME_ , but she realised that that curse, in particular, wouldn't work, when it was the very Heda herself doing that… act.  _Oh Spirits. Spirits SPIRITS SPIRITS!_

Thankfully, they were too engrossed in their gross kissing things to notice her, which was really great, because it  _DID NOT_  need to get more awkward than it already was. And so Madi hurried by them quickly, screwing her eyes shut (and not caring if she'd hit a tree, because  _SPIRITS SHE DID NOT NEED TO SEE THAT—_ ), and practically ran off to hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should apologise for the bundle of angst/fluff... so here it is. :'D
> 
> Let me know what you thought! <3


	34. Can't Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Too many nightmares.

Madi woke up screaming.

Jolted awake by the hammering in her brain; stayed awake because of the flashes that circulated around her head.

 _SPIRITS_!  _Forests Forests Forests and the dawn and oh Spirits the_ ** _DAWN_** _._

Adrenaline coursed through her veins as if chanting for some battle that existed in her head. But it wasn't in her head— _no it wasn't_ because it had felt all-too-real, all at once, and it wasn't just  _them_ that was eyes darted wildly around her surroundings. She was in her room; in her bed. Not  _there_. She wasn't there.  _Breathe_.  _Breathebreathebreathebreathe._

Screwed her eyes shut, felt the sweat prickle against her neck. Sat up against her bed; up against the board.  _Breathe._ Gripped the bedsheets and tossed them to the side; gathered her knees into her arms and buried her head in it. Her breath hitched in quick gasps— _breathe._

Clarke and Lexa would be coming any minute now. They probably heard her scream.

_Spirits, you're not there anymore. You're not there anymore,_

She wasn't there anymore. She wasn't, wasn't, wasn't—

_Why're you even dreaming about it? So many times?_

No. _No, no, no_  she couldn't  _think_  this now, not when the nightmare was still burned so freshly in her mind and she could still see could still the lights in the dawn and the sword in the bald man's hands.  _No, she couldn't._

_Is it cause you want them to die? That's why you think about it so much? 'Cause you wanna see their deaths, over and over again?_

_Theirs? His?_

_Is that why?_

**Spirits, SHUT UP!**

Madi breathed in a breath, exhaled slowly. Squeezed her eyes shut.  _No, that's not why. I-I'm not dreaming about them 'cause o-of sadism or s-somethin'. It's a nightmare. They're all nightmares. They all are._

_(Then why did she call them dreams?)_

…

''I'm  _sorry?''_ Clarke blinked, once, twice, nigh-uncomprehendingly, her head whipping over to face Lexa in disbelief. ''Y-you want her… to…''

''Fight,'' Lexa supplied and placed the knife down on the counter. ''She needs to learn to fight if she wants to rid of her trauma.''

Countless days of nightmares. Madi had them all, even in days where she had gone to bed with a smile on her face and a skip in her step. They had comforted her during one a many nights, after the nightmares had gone and Madi woke up sobbing, which usually followed a lot of reassurance, comfort, and always ended with Madi sticking a lot closer to the both of them a few hours after the ordeal, holding by the fingers of their hands or just somewhere which she could feel their  _presence_.

And of course, there were  _those_ nights where Lexa insisted to give Madi time alone for herself, even though her sniffles was  _so painfully obvious_ from her room. But that  _did_   _not_  warrant an automatic jump from  _fearing sleep_ to  _learning to fight._

Clarke looked at Lexa and blinked for a few moments as if trying to digest what Lexa had said. ''I-I'm not sure if that's how it works,'' she admitted and gazed at Lexa to see if she was hearing right. So she wanted to train Madi to fight… to ward off her demons?

''Precisely,'' Lexa said swiftly, lifting her head slightly to meet Clarke's eyes, which had shocked Clarke enough because _did she just read her mind?_  ''Training not only helps her physically but mentally as well. She will feel better; for if she learns to fight her demons physically, then her confidence in herself and her abilities will grow as well; and eventually, she will learn to fight her own battles and settle her mental demons.''

Clarke tried to come up with a response to that but failed. ''I… is that really a good idea, Lexa?'' she finally said. Thought about all the nightmares Madi had before. Still trying to digest Lexa's reasoning, she said: ''I mean, what if she gets injured?''

''She will become even more injured if we do not teach her how to fight,'' Lexa said firmly. ''Physically and mentally. Especially three years from now.''

Clarke ran her fingers through her hair. ''Yes, but…''

''What do you think will happen when the bunker is open, Clarke?'' She responded in exasperation. ''Octavia—Octavia is  _their_ Commander, and she is red-blooded. We are Natblida, the colour of the Commander line. It is not a stretch to think—''

''Octavia wouldn't do that.'' Clarke insisted stubbornly. ''She—she wouldn't kill a  _kid_ to stop whatever delusions her people have of Madi succeeding her, okay?''

''Five years is a long time for change, and never a measure of trust.'' was all Lexa said to that. And then, softly: ''She needs to learn how to defend herself, Clarke. That is all I am asking. It is a way for her to learn to cope with her trauma, even without our presences.''

Clarke appeared troubled for a few more moments until she let out a sigh. ''… alright.''

…

_Seventeenth Night._

_Dream still there._

_Not writing it anymore. Probably makes it worse._

_…_

_603 days since Praimfaya._

_2 DAYS LATER..._

''Why am I fighting you, Clarke?'' Madi asked curiously as she tested the spear in her hand.

''Because—'' Clarke heaved a breath. ''—Because you need to learn to fight.'' And then, she thought of the bunker below, and added: ''For your survival.''

Madi seemed slightly distressed. ''Yes, but—why  _you?_ Why not animals or dummies or…  _something?''_

Clarke took another breath.  _''Because,_ you have to learn to fight against a real human. Something that acts like a human that isn't an animal.'' And she thought of those underneath the bunker, of Octavia and Madi's blood and the people within, and gazed back at Madi square in the eyes, burning with intensity. ''You'll need it.''

Madi seemed slightly uneasy. ''… okay.''

Clarke unsheathed her sword, tested its weight in her hand. ''Ready?''

Madi still seemed unsure, but nodded once, tightly. And with that, Clarke readied her blade, her stance offensive; as she went in for the charge.

Madi blocked the first blow with the neck of her spear but stumbled back at the sheer force of the sword. Madi's footing uneven, wobbling as she tried to regain her footing, Clarke capitalised— and with one fell swoop with her sword, Madi jarred to the ground.

''Ow,'' Madi groaned, her arms taking the brunt of the impact when she hit the ground. And a few moments after, she slumped to the floor. She could almost taste the dirt in her mouth, as her spear clattered by her side. Clarke stood back, waiting, and that was when Madi realised—Clarke had wanted her to  _continue._

 _Spirits_ , Madi thought as she was sprawled on the floor.  _All of this looked a lot easier when I saw_ ** _others_** _do it. Why did fighting have to be so… hard?_

''Get up, Madi,'' she heard Clarke say. ''You still have your weapon.''

Groaning, Madi swiped the weapon from the ground and shakily stood. Panting, hands on her knees, as she stared at Clarke, unflinching, gazing at her a lot more codly than she usually would with her sword poised to strike.

And with that, Madi took one final breath, hefted her spear in front of her in a weak defence, and with one final pant, sweat shimmering on her neck, she charged in.

 _Clang!_ And she was sprawled onto the floor again, spear rolling by her side. She squinted her eyes and took one long breath, feeling the heat radiate on her back, and she heard the inevitable— ''Get up, Madi.''

She got up. And she was hit down again, and Clarke yelled at her to take her weapon, and the whole process repeated itself again. And after the seventh time, she was sprawled on the ground, spear stuck in her hand as she looked above into the sky, feeling the momentary reprieve before the next word came—she heard Clarke speak, and braced herself for a stand—

''Good work, Madi. This'll be it for now.''

Madi opened her eyes in disbelief. Was Clarke being serious? But then, she heard footsteps reverberate through the ground, and the next thing that entered her vision was one open extended hand, waiting for her to take it.

Madi took it, and Clarke pulled her up. Still panting for breath, still red, her throat in a desperate dry cry for water, but she felt exhilarated. Even though she was panting hard and sweat had drenched her body, she had felt fresher than she'd ever felt before. She was tired, and yet she felt like she could be knocked down and get up again and do it over a thousand times, and feel as eager as she had been from the very first time.

And so with an exhausted smile, as Clarke led her back into the abode, her eyes shining with pride, Madi couldn't help but ask: ''when are we gonna do this again?''

And when the pride in Clarke's eyes morphed into a smile, Madi knew it wasn't gonna be for long.

…

_Twenty-Second Night._

_Good dream. I was with ai sis. She was teachin me how to spear-fish in that lake a few minutes away from our home in Polis. Showed me the spear she loved so much an' her eyes were twinkling with silver though I know it's like usually brown but it was silver this time. I got a few fishes with my spear an' she was really proud of me. Twas really fun. I got to sleep for the whole night!_

_I grinned the ENTIRE time I woke up. Clarke an' Lexa wanted to know why I was so happy but I didn't wanna share it. I dunno why, but it's MY dream. Tellin' someone else about it just feels wrong an' makes it less private an' makes me feel less happy. But I don't wanna forget this dream._

_I hope I get to spear-fish with her again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just imagine Clarke and Lexa comforting Madi after a nightmare, though. Clarke would be head over heels with worry (''Madi? Are you okay?'' - ''No,'') while Lexa just acts all ''I'm the Heda, I don't have nightmares because my people have nightmares about _me_ '' and acts all nonchalant but secretly comforts her. That's some ~~angst~~ fluff that I'd need in my life. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought! :')


	35. Can't Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Madi tries to fight.
> 
> Not that successfully though. Especially when it comes to facing the Wanheda and the Heda, well...

_638 days since Praimfaya._

''There's-there was a third-person in all that, Clarke.'' Madi protested. ''It—it wasn't Carl! And-an' it wasn't you guys either that raided his base either!'' Then, her eyes tore away from Lexa's uncomprehending one, to Clarke's in a plead.

''Just… stop  _defending_  him, Madi!'' Clarke said, exasperated. ''There is no third-person.'' And her gaze flickered away from Madi's, to make eye contact with Lexa in a silent talk—and Madi's heart dropped.

When Clarke's gaze found back Madi's gaze again, her expression soft but stern, Madi felt worse. ''I—we think you should get some sleep, Madi. It's just gonna be a quick rest to clear your head. What do you say about that?'' she said softly, and Madi felt like she was almost sick.

''I'm fine!'' Madi said indignantly. ''I don't need sleep! 'Cause I know what I'm sayin' an'—an' I know I'm  _right!_ J-just trust me, Clarke, an' you'll see what I-I'm talkin' about—'' and then Madi faltered. Because it was in that moment when she looked over their concerned expressions that she realised, nothing could convince them otherwise.

''F-fine. I'll get some sleep,'' Madi muttered under her breath and stalked back to her room.

Once the door clicked shut, Clarke's eyes met Lexa's. It was Lexa who cleared her throat and spoke first. ''Clarke. Have you considered if Madi might be right? About another survivor after Praimfaya? It would not be entirely implausible—''

''—but it's impossible.'' Clarke sighed and looked away from Lexa. When her gaze flickered back, it was wistful. ''We have enough to deal with already.''

...

_Thirtieth_ _Night._

_VERY bad dream. Saw the forests and the dawn. He was there, too. Old bald man with that GIGANTIC blade. I saw 'em again. Nomon an' Nontu. They were tellin' me to run an' I did as fast as I could but they still caught up._

_Woke up sweating really bad. Didn't go to Lexa 'cause it'll make it worse. She's the Commander and then from there I remember the Fleimkipas 'cause she orders them an'…_

_Won't be writing this down anymore. I wanna forget._

_…_

''Lexa…'' Madi murmured, gazing up to her. Placed down a gear that was part of her bear trap. ''W-what d'ja feel about…  _him?''_ she asked, her lips pursing as she anxiously waited for an answer.

Lexa knew who  _him_  was, of course. Exhaling quietly, she looked back at Madi; with something incomprehensible in her expression. Finally, she said: ''You need to be specific, Madi. Are you asking what I feel about him, as a whole, or his actions? For they are two different things in itself.''

Madi looked away from Lexa. Her eyes flickered around the abode; through the windows, where the quiet, low rays of dusk shone from. And then, finally: ''D'ja think that he was the one who did it all?'' she said. ''T-that set the traps an'—and  _did_  it all. D'ja think he was the  _shadow?''_

Lexa's eyes reverted away from Madi's expression to meet the bear traps. Exhaling, she said: ''I—I hope he was.''

_…_

_658 days since Praimfaya._

''Can I train with you?'' Madi asked, as she gazed up at Clarke hopefully, who was sketching out plans for their farm. ''Lexa's out hunting, I don't wanna farm, and I'm done with my trebuchet.  _Please_?'' she said, complete with a big, pleading, Natblida-esque grin that nobody on Earth could resist. Which was technically true, what with the only people left on Earth being Clarke and Lexa and all.

Clarke sighed a smile, as she put down her pencil.  _Damnit, Madi_.  _Why were Nightblood grins so hard to resist?_ ''Alright, Madi,'' Clarke finally said after a dragged-out time of contemplation, which nearly made Madi squeak with excitement. ''But—'' she added on, and Madi's excitement levels immediately spiralled into a free-fall. ''But, you'll have to help skin the meat tonight. Promise?'' she said, jutting out her pinky finger.

Madi sulked, but she had hooked her pinky finger with Clarke's. ''Okay then,'' she said, and then brightly, quickly disentangling her pinky finger from hers: ''Can we?''

Clarke nodded slightly, a small, almost invisible smile on her features. ''Lead the way.''

Madi bounded out of the abode and led Clarke to the left side of the house, where their farm was at. There was a large, unused, bare ground that was just outside where their small farm was. Taking the dummy-spear that leaned on the fence of the farm, as Clarke took the dummy-sword, they circled each other in the bare ground that marked their arena. ''Ready?''

Clarke nodded, and then Madi charged with her spear. Clarke swiftly moved past as Madi's spear met nothing but thin air, its balance toppled at the overreach, and Clarke swiped upwards at the spear with her sword; but Madi managed to wrestle back her hold on her weapon. And then, it was Clarke's turn to attack.

Madi dodged to the side as the blade whizzed past, and ducked when she realised it was gonna swipe overhead. And then, when the sword descended from above…

 _Crap_!

Sword clanged against spear. Madi felt the pressure push onto her, her arms wobbling with strain and sweat, her knee touching the ground, and she knew she couldn't go on any longer…

_Stop, Madi. Let it go._

In an instant, Madi stopped resisting, and let the pressure come down in full, as she rolled away with her spear. And at the sudden loss of an opposing force, Clarke's footing became uneven, as she tried to regain her composure…

Madi charged.

She barraged into an unsteady-Clarke with a crash, and the both of them tumbled to the ground. Elation overwhelmed her—Madi felt victorious, she'd did it, she'd won,  _finally…_ and then she felt metal touch her neck.

''Better now,'' Clarke panted, a smile over her face, as she held her sword under Madi's chin. ''A lot better.''

…

_Thirty-Seventh Night._

_Saw Lexa die. Bald man was there. She got shot in the chest an' Clarke was cryin'. They said somethin' about not being able to save her. She was bleedin' out, an' for some reason no-one tried to stop it—an' she_ **_talked_ ** _to Clarke while she was gunna die. Even though she's the Heda and she knows talking'll only speed up the dying process._

_Lexa died sayin' something about how life should be more than just surviving. Clarke was just really sad and she was cryin' a lot. I don't think I've seen her cry so much until now._

_I woke up an' went to Lexa's room to check. She saw me cryin' an asked what's up. I didn't tell her what I dreamed 'cause that'd be really weird. But she isn't dead, so that's really good. Slept with her an' Clarke for the leftover night._

_She isn't dead. I'm really glad she isn't. That'd be really stupid if she died like that anyway. I'm just really happy that it was a dream—for a moment it seemed really real._

_I dunno why._

…

_708 days since Praimfaya._

''Why can't I fight Lexa?'' Madi whined as she was sprawled to the ground for the twentieth time, her spear clattering to the side. ''Why does it have to be you all the time?''

Clarke, too, was panting hard, using her sword as support. Droplets of sweat curved down her neck, but there was a ghost of a smile that graced her lips. Taking a glance over to Lexa, who had been viewing their fights in silence; ''Do you want to fight?''

''I was waiting for you to ask.'' Slipping two swords from the rack, she wheeled towards their ''arena'', where Madi was sprawled to the floor.

Madi, red from perspiration, took one large-long breath and swiping the spear from her side, stood. She faced Lexa, each opponent gauging the other's actions. Madi tested the weight of the spear in her hand—heavy enough, and with its tip pointed at Lexa, she charged.

With a quick bat of the sword, the spear was sent flying, And Madi, without her weapon, could only stare at Lexa, eyes wide at the two weapons she had in hand, and in Madi's own,  _none_.

And—

_SMACK!_

Madi groaned when she hit the ground for the twenty-first time. Beside her was the spear that Lexa had battered away like it was nothing; and on the other side was a watching Clarke, who seemed like she was trying very hard not to smirk. Madi would've glared, if not for how her back ached and how tired she'd felt.

 _How did she do that?!_ her mind whirred as she blinked away the sweat from her eyes.  _And_ ** _so quickly_** _too! Like I was nothin'. Oh Spirits, Clarke wouldn't even be this fast. And_ ** _she_** _has her legs. Spirits, I didn't even last a second._

She groaned again, more to herself than anybody else in particular. _Damnit, that hurt!_ She lifted her hand to cover her eyes, which was squinting in the afternoon sunlight. Lexa almost seemed to tower above her, blocking the ever-so-hot sun, a hand on the glaring wheel and the other with her weapon.

''I had left a lot of openings during my defence, Madi,'' Lexa commented, as she gazed at a panting Madi on the ground. ''You had the advantage of a spear. That is enough to skewer me with distance, with a true throw that I could not defend from. And yet you approached, forced yourself to duel with me in close-combat. That itself was enough to tip the scales to my side.''

Then, without even missing a breath, she continued: ''Additionally, although your spear-work is fine with regards to fishing, close-combat is a different situation entirely. You cannot use a spear as a sword—that would only disbalance the spear, thus causing it to be easily battered away. Furthermore, your spear is far too heavy for your size. Perhaps it does not matter during spear-fishing, but during combat, it is the difference that makes a  _loss_  or a  _victory_.''

Madi was still panting, but her eyes were trained on Lexa. She was still hurting from the one-sided ''fight'' they had beforehand. Her thoughts weren't focused on Lexa's speech—rather, still dazed from the ease which Lexa had taken her down at, and was going through a mild life introspection plus an identity crisis.  _What less did I expect?! Spirits, Madi, she is HEDA. What were you thinking?! All Hedas were chosen for a reason. And they DEFINITELY knew how to fight._ She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the red burn on her face. It was a good thing that it was hidden by the redness from the tiredness on her face, because if not, then it'd just be plain  _embarrassing_.

''Madi?'' Lexa said, which brought Madi out of her crisis-filled self-evaluation. ''Do you understand what I had said?''

 _Yes, yes she did._ A part of her mind had wanted to scream:  _All of that's 'cause I didn't want to kill you!_  And then her eyes turned to the spear at her side, and that was when she asked, breathing hard: ''C-can I swap it out for s-some daggers… instead?''

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't resist. Had to do a fighting chapter. I'm sorry. :')
> 
> Let me know what you thought!


	36. Can't Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> — Or, at least, not good ones that aren't the slightest bit weird.

_Sixty-Fifth Night._

_Got a dream. Dunno what happened though. I was in this gigantic room with lotso candles in it. 'Twas really warm in brown an' I was in the centre. There was this weird gem with the Commander symbol on it. There was a hand an' they were extending it out to me. Had a lot of blood but it wasn't scary. Just really weird._

_Some 'un was givin' it to me, for some reason. It was all very blurry. I dunno what I did—that's when I woke up._

_Dunno why I'm writing this either. Just feels too weird to not record the weirdness._

…

_710 days since Praimfaya._

''What story would you like tonight,  _goufa?''_ Lexa asked as she watched Madi wiggle into her bed. It had been a long day; they had spent most of it scavenging and hunting, which, although was fun, was definitely tiresome; and so, Lexa was inclined to let Madi choose which tale she'd like to hear for the night.

''C-can you tell me what happened?'' Madi murmured, as she gazed at Lexa nervously, fidgeting with her bedsheets. And when Lexa gazed at her in a question for her to elaborate: ''I-I mean a-after you were paralysed. What happened?''

Lexa sighed, ever so quietly, and leaned back. She let the memories pass by her mind; but it had felt far away, out of  _reach_  and so  _different_  from this world she was now living in. It was unusual, to contrast the difference that was this year and two years ago. One of them had her a duty; gave her a sense of urgency as the acting Commander, always halfway dead, always vulnerable, open to attack. Always had to watch her words, and act, on the behalf of her people. The other had her in the midst of a forest in Shallow Valley, living a relatively quiet life with her flame, Clarke, and telling stories to an 8-year old Nightblood of the past that she remembered. And with a jolt, Lexa realised just how  _different_  the two lives she'd led were. And if she was asked to choose one, she feared the answer that nestled in both of the choices she had.

She found the thought troubling but nevertheless set it aside. And when Madi gazed at her expectantly, waiting for a response, Lexa cleared her throat and began.

''As I had told you before, I was shot by someone, by a bullet meant for a friend. That  _someone_ was the Fleimkipa Titus.'' And at Madi's wide eyes— ''And that  _friend_ was Clarke.''

Madi looked at her, eyes wide, mouth slightly hanging in a gape. Surprise, fear, and awe had run her emotions.  _Awe?_

Lexa's brow furrowed in the slightest, but she continued nonetheless. ''As is apparent, I was paralysed. My… mentors did not take the news well.'' she said. Thought of Anya's disapproval; Indra's distaste, and Titus' face, a mask of stone. ''They wished I to die,'' she cleared her throat, watching Madi's expression carefully.

Madi was surprised, but her eyes were downcast. Finally, after a period of contemplating silence, she murmured, ever so quietly: ''I'm glad you didn't.''

Lexa didn't respond, but tilted her head downwards slightly, to show that she'd heard. She appreciated Madi's words. And so, clearing her throat, she continued: ''I might've, if not for Ontari's rise,'' and then, her voice rueful: ''I suppose I have that to thank of her.''

''Ontari?'' Madi asked, the edge of confusion evident in her voice. She repositioned herself against the back of her bed. ''Who's that?''

''Azgeda,'' Lexa replied simply. ''She was Azgeda, and wanted my throne. She killed—'' and at this, her breath quickened, so subtle but still evident, and she hoped Madi didn't notice, ''— killed my Natblida in their sleep.''

Madi was stunned, her expression mixed with fear, surprise, sadness—that remained so, unregistering the passing of time, and Lexa's heart ached, for it was so familiar, so close to those she had lost.

And then— ''Wha-what happened to Ontari?'' she asked, voice quiet, almost fearful, as if her mind was still on Lexa's Nightbloods and their deaths.

''Died,'' Lexa supplied, and when Madi watched her expression: ''By my blade.''

Madi seemed relieved. ''So then you became Commander?'' she asked, gazing at Lexa as she waited for her to continue.

''No,'' Lexa said, smiling ironically at the memory. ''I had the Ambassadors to pass.'' They had been dissatisfied—  _Spirits_ , she could still recall their faces when they stormed into the Ontari's quarters in shock, found their Heda dead, slit by their fallen Commander in anarchy and vengeance, and were forced to replace Ontari with  _her_ , a crippled Commander, their only replacement lest a war start of red blood.

''H-how did the people—the  _Ambassadors—_ react when they found out?'' Madi asked curiously, as she sat up from her bed.

Lexa felt the corners of her lips quirk. ''Not well,'' she admitted. ''Half of them voted for my descent. But that vote was fought to a standstill; and so, I was Commander again.''

''Oh.'' Madi said. She was still fidgeting; as if she couldn't sit still. And then, she said: ''… h-how did it all end?''

Lexa felt a sigh overcome her. ''There was a mind-controlling chip that took away free-will— that one of the Skaikru had brought into Polis. They had managed to take control of a significant amount of my people until I realised what was happening. I had freed my people from its influence; but not without cost.'' she ended ruefully. The  _cost_  itself was evident; her second fall as a Commander.

It was almost amusing, to think about it. Commanders died—usually in vain, more often than not alone. She had almost met her end once, same as the others have, but then she didn't—she had lived. To think she had survived not just one fall, but  _two_ , and the midst of it managed to regain her throne as well was such an oddity in the line of Commanders that Lexa couldn't help but laugh.

Madi seemed slightly surprised, but then she mellowed down. Her fidgeting had stopped. And then, Madi asked, voice hoarse as she were quiet: "Did you send the Fleimkipas?"

It took a second for Lexa to process what Madi meant. The Fleimkipas that had murdered her family.

Solemnly, as carefully as she could, she said: "I did not." After her last and final fall, when she had broken her people from ALIE's mindspell, Lexa had recalled the scouts, hunting down Natblidas in an effort to find one worthy for Heda's throne, trying to find the lost as if it were some sport. A sport not paid in money, but the glory of blood. "They did, of their own accord."

_But I was indirectly a cause of it._

Madi cast her eyes away. And then, tersely: ''Why do Fleimkipas c-come into houses and t-take people away?'' she said, her voice hoarse. ''D-do you know…?''

 _She was asking about her sister,_  Lexa realised. She recalled when Madi told them about her family; that her sister was  _rounded_   _off_  and _never seen again,_ and then her brother next. Unease settled in her stomach because she knew  _very_   _well_  what ceremony  _that_  was for.

It was a ceremony hosted in event of a Commander's death. And only one could come alive from  _that_.

Lexa wished not to break whatever little hope Madi had in her heart left; and so, she lied. Told her  _no_ , she didn't know and bade her a good night's rest.

For she did not know how to break the news; without risking the break of Madi's heart.

…

_Seventy-Second Night._

_Weird dream. I try not to think about it much, but it kept comin' back, so I think's about time I wrote it down so my brain moves on._

_Dunno if that's how it works._

_Anyway, so basically I saw brother and ai sis. They were sparring or somethin'; dunno why. But there was spears and swords and there was a big arena and all that. Lots of cheering and I had to plug my fingers in my ears 'cause it was SO LOUD._

_It's weird 'cause I don't think I've seen them fight before. 'Cause all I remember of them is playin' games with me and havin' laughs and fun and bein' all annoying to each other. But they looked so serious._

_Now that this's written, hopefully I can move on. Dream's a lot better than the other stuff though. Like the ones with him and them in it. Don't wanna get those either._

_When'll they stop coming? Need to do something more 'bout it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, part 2 from the beginning when Lexa and Madi talked about Lexa's situation. Felt like the elaboration would be unusual to go without mentioning, so here it is. :D
> 
>  ~~again couldn't resist~~ let me know what you thought!


	37. Can't Live

_720 days since Praimfaya._

It had been a long day of spear-fishing. And of course, as always, Clarke had brought back home a few fish and a considerably happier Madi back home.

Although Lexa never voiced it, she had always appreciated their spear-fishing sessions. Despite Clarke being, apparently, not so good at the sport, Lexa did appreciate the haul of fish they would bring home—but more importantly—the alleviation of Madi's mood.

It was no secret that Madi had been different, ever since Carl Emerson. She had become quieter; less energetic; slightly more saddened throughout the days. And it was in times like these when Madi speared fish or chatted with them whenever she was in a better mood, that Lexa had truly appreciated the effort that Clarke took to help Madi through her sadness.

And some of those differences were more apparent than others. For example, Madi would perk up whenever there was talk regarding a  _shadow—_ even if it were passing ones that didn't even regard the  _shadow_ which was on Madi's mind. Once, Lexa had asked Madi of her theories regarding the shadow; which had resulted in a spiral from a furiously-dedicated Madi, all of which she patiently listened to and took in, and Madi had only stopped due to a call for dinner.

But did she believe in Madi's theories surrounding a shadow? Lexa would not dub it  _implausible._ After all, she herself  _had_ seen a shadow, when she was dangling away from her death in Carl Emerson's trap. She had, however, assumed it was Carl Emerson; and it was likely so; for it was his trap, after all, and hunters often looked after their own for capture—and the shadow itself had not attempted to rescue her in any shape or form.

But if she factored in Carl Emerson's denial; then the entire shape would change.

A simple reason would be that he was lying. The other required an evaluation that was too surreal to even imagine, much less comprehend.

(But why was it so incongruous, then?)

Clarke's yell from the counter broke her from her reverie. She looked up sharply. ''Hey Lexa, do you usually cut of the second mutated head of the fish, or…?''

Clarke was examining the fish like it had sprouted two heads—which, fine, perhaps was true, but she supposed that Clarke would've been over the  _mutated animals_ half a year ago. Madi seemed slightly curious at the statement, momentarily bringing her out of her thoughts on the couch. Lexa whipped her head towards Clarke in half-disbelief, as if to gauge if she was joking or not.

She was not.

With a sigh, she said: '' _Clarke_ , if they've mutated so far by now, you wouldn't be able to tell which was the original head and which was the new one,'' Lexa muttered, exasperated, much to Madi's joy and Clarke's bewilderment. ''Just cut both of them off.''

''Yes!'' Madi yelped. And when both of them stared at her, she gave a sheepish grin and bolted into her room.

Clarke raised an eyebrow.

Lexa looked away and sighed.

This was her life.

...

_EIGHTY-SIXTH NIGHT._

_I DREAMED ABOUT A COMMANDER!_

_HOLY SPIRITS! EVERYONE SAID THAT I WAS NEVER GONNA GET ONE OF THOSE DREAMS 'CAUSE THE COMMANDER'S SPIRITS WOULDN'T BE BOTHERED TO CHOOSE SOMEONE LIKE ME, BUT THEY DID!_

_AND IT WASN'T_ **_ANY_ ** _OLD COMMANDER—IT WAS MADDIE THE COMMANDER!_

_SPIRITS I SAW EVERYTHING!_

_IT WAS AMAZING! I GOT TO GO 'ROUND THE FORESTS AN' I HELPED HER FIND THE JET! IT WAS REALLY RUDDY BUT IT LOOKED LIKE IT HAD SO MANY WORKING PARTS AND SPIRITS I'M SO EXCITED!_

_I'M SO EXCITED TO SEE MORE!_

…

_750 days since Praimfaya._

Drawing with a Natblida squished beside you was a lot harder than it looked.

At first, it was kind of nice. Natblidas themselves were not very sociable or affectionate creatures, and when they  _were_  it felt like once in a blue moon. So imagine Clarke's pleasant surprise when Madi, instead of ever-so-cheerfully jumping away to polish arrows or to obsessively try and build her model trebuchet after lunch, decided to cuddle up next to Clarke and watch her draw a sleeping Lexa who had, in her tiredness, fell asleep on the couch in their living room, wheelchair ditched beside the couch.

But there were always downsides.

Firstly, although a presence of a free heat-generating warmth beside her was always nice during the winter,  _they were in the middle of the summer at a sweltering 40 degrees, and just after a nuclear meltdown, too_. And secondly, though any and all Natblida affections' were appreciated by Clarke, the constant squirming for more room that was squished beside her wasn't doing much good for her drawing hand.

And thirdly and likely the worst of them all, there was the neverending omnipotence presence of nagging beside Clarke, which, although was trying to be helpful, was getting  _really_  hard to shut out.

''This doesn't look nice,'' Madi said, frowning as she brushed a finger over the still-in-progress Lexa's midsection. Then, she made a face. ''Looks like a weird looking frog. Clarke, are you  _sure_ you're drawing Lexa?''

_And now I remember why I didn't let anyone see my drawings in progress._

Attempting to placate the Natblida, Clarke tried: ''It's not refined yet, Madi. I need to sketch out the bare bones before focusing on details. That's why I need the practice.'' she explained, supposedly soothingly, but it came off as a mix between offended and exasperated.

Madi didn't seem to notice, however. Facial features scrunched, she offered: ''Maybe you should use something to cover it up.''

''Madi…'' Clarke tried but was interrupted by Madi once again.

''I guess you could draw a table over it. Or a cloud. Or a rainbow. Or draw you on Lexa,'' and at this, Clarke choked on air. Thankfully, Madi rambled on. ''Or maybe you could just have an ''accident'' on the drawing or something. Others might just think it was accidentally ruined. But—'' And then, at the excitement from the prospect, she exclaimed: ''—No-one but we would've known what happened! It'll be awesome, Clarke! I could tell  _everyone_  that  _I_ did that!  _Please!_ ''

 _'''Madi,_ it has to be realistic. I can't just add a big black splotch on the drawing just because you said so.''

Madi made a face. ''Who says you have to add a big black splotch?'' Then, her face lit up. ''I know! You can use a blanket.''

''Madi… I can't just add a blanket over Lexa's midsection just because you think it'd look nicer.''

''Don't worry, Clarke!'' Madi said excitedly. ''I'll grab a blanket!'' And before Clarke could protest, she took off.

Clarke sighed exasperatedly, but in there it hid her reluctant smile, as she added a few more dashes of charcoal on her notebook.  _Damnit, Madi._

And it was then when Madi dashed back, a blanket held in both her hands as she threw it over Lexa. And it was then when Clarke stifled a smile when Madi snuggled up beside her, watched her draw Lexa with the addition of a blanket, and then dozing off on Clarke's shoulder when she got tired.

After Madi's snores and Lexa's slow breathing was the only sound that emanated from the room, Clarke smiled, and put down her chalk, and basked in the presence of the two other survivors on Earth, both soundly sleeping like there was nothing to fear, nothing to care about, no responsibilities to hold.

And it wasn't long before she dozed off, too.

…

…

Her back turned away from a sleeping Clarke and Madi, Lexa smiled amid her so-called ''slumber''.  _This was her life._

…

_Ninety-Eighth Night._

_Good dream. Not really a dream, 'cause it was just Clarke and me and Lexa makin' a trebuchet, so it's kinda more like a memory, but I had it when I was asleep._

_I remember it bein' all warm and fun. We all made our own trebuchets and took turns shootin' it, and there was this target, an' then suddenly a shadow appeared! Clarke an' Lexa got really freaked out an' I used my trebuchet to shoot it an' I got a headshot an' it died! We got to eat the cougar meat at night._

_Was really fun. Don't think I wanna forget about this one._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~im so sorry but i love fluff too much—~~
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> let me know what you thought!


	38. Can't Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madi can't find the shadows.

_756 days since Praimfaya._

_I couldn't find the shadows._

_Been doing this for a while. Trying to find the shadows, ever since then. I've scavenged through the forests around our village, but I saw nothing. Not even a flicker or a silhouette that'd tell me it was_ ** _there_** _. But it's not, it's gone, and I couldn't see or find anything. Couldn't find_   ** _it._ **

_And I hate, hate, HATE it especially after everything that's happened because I don't know if they're gone or lost or something or if it only existed in my head and they were never there in the first place._

_But I know they're there. Because it must've been, because I know it's there because it's not possible that it's not, because of Carl and everything that's happened because I know, I know he wasn't lying about the trap, I know Clarke and Lexa didn't raid him either, I know what I saw and heard was true, what happened wasn't him or them but something_ ** _else_ ** _._

_I'm sure of it. But what if it isn't? What if I'm wrong and he's actually lied to me and let me draw conclusions? What if_ **_they've_ ** _lied too but don't wanna tell me? Maybe he's the one that did it_ **_all_ ** _from the resources and the trap but didn't tell me about it. I don't know_ **_anything_ ** _._

_Can't be. Cause it's not true. They haven't lied, I'm not wrong, there's something else in there stirring it up all and I'm right because I have to be because they couldn't've_ **_DONE_  ** _it!_

_I can't be wrong. I don't want to be wrong._

_And I know what I saw. I think, I know, I saw the shadows. There's something else out there._

_It's there. It's gotta be._

_…_

''I'm  _bored!''_ Madi muffled out as she gazed up to Clarke and Lexa, swaying impatiently, as they packed up their resources for what was probably the millionth time of the day, for some reason. Sure they were running low, and there were admittedly  _less_ resources than there probably should've been, but  _still._ Lexa really didn't  _need_ to have to insist on spending the entire hour sorting out and counting their resources again. ''Can you give me somethin' to do?''

''Help out,'' Lexa said, moving a very empty bag to the side, as Madi sighed irritably.

''Not that!'' she said, and when that was met with a fixed glare from both Clarke and Lexa, she shut up.

''F-fine,'' Madi mumbled out, and shuffled to help them.  _Oh well. The faster I finish this, the faster **they** finish it, and the faster  **they** finish it, the faster we get to go out hunting and MAYBE fighting..._

_..._

_743 days since Praimfaya._

_Lexa's been fighting more. Training. Sometimes I see her fight and I get scared because it's so, so_ ** _surreal_** _. Cause she does it so casually and like the blades were just extensions of her hands, and if fighting's an art then she would be taking home first prize, because_ **_Spirits_ ** _how does she_ ** _DO IT?!_** _But she fights like she's angry, like there's somebody she hates that she's hitting and not a straw dummy._

_I've asked Clarke about it. She was quiet for a moment and her eyes moved away from me and she knelt down to meet my eyes and said something about her letting it all out. Something about her being angry at something but she wouldn't tell me what that something was._

_But everytime when she's finished, usually after me and Clarke come back from spear-fishing, she's back to normal. Like small smiles and slight jokes at all. And when we eat around the campfire and talk the light's back in her eyes, it's like she was never angry at all._

_I try not to think about it a lot, but it's there on my mind._

_…_

_762 days since Praimfaya._

''Clarke,'' Lexa said as she narrowed her eyes in disbelief at the drawing that was presented before her. ''W-what is this?''

''I-it's a drawing,'' Clarke gasped out, amid her fits of disbelieving laughter.  _Goddamnit, Madi!_ ''O-of  _you_.''

''It is… interesting,'' Lexa managed to say, as Madi giggled behind her. Clarke tried her best to  _not_ choke on her laughter, as she stole a glance at Lexa's eyes.

That was a bad idea.

She couldn't even begin to describe the expression that was on Lexa's face. Horror, bafflement, a mixture of perplexment, and an inadvertent tinge of curiosity—Lexa had it all.

Long story short, Clarke choked.

''Why is there… a black splotch?'' Lexa's voice was in bafflement, as her eyes turned from the drawing to Clarke—who was currently too much in her fit of laughter to meet her eyes. ''And is this a-a  _rainbow?''_ Her fingers traced over the piece of paper as if she couldn't believe her eyes. ''What is… this?''

''J-just a drawing,'' Clarke managed to stutter out, mainly because of the impending laughter that was stopping her from completing coherent, comprehensible sentences.  _Oh god, Madi._

She couldn't look at the drawing.  _Oh_   _god_ , Clarke  _couldn't,_ not when she was already desperately trying to prevent laughter from bubbling to the surface,  _especially_  with Lexa's face staring into the drawing that she definitely  _couldn't_  look, even despite herself being on the verge of tears already.  _Oh god, she couldn't do this._

''What?'' Madi said innocuously, as Clarke attempted to glare at her, half because _Madi just doodled all over her drawing damnit_ , and half because o _h god this is so embarrassing,_ but her abrupt glare had only lasted a second before she took a glance at the drawing, and abruptly drowned in a stifle of laughter.

And above it all, Lexa seemed so  _goddamn_  bewildered, so  _confused_  by all that was happening, and  _oh_   _god_  if Clarke couldn't do this anymore. The only thing she could do now was to ward off her laughter at bay, and even  _that_ wasn't working well at  _any given rate_.

Madi giggled alongside her, ''It's so much better now!'' she beamed in happiness, which seemed to only contribute towards Lexa's entire utter bemusement.

 _God_. There was no point in keeping the laughter in anymore. Clarke decided to play along. With a grin, she asked: ''Do-do you like it?''

''I…'' Lexa faltered. It was as if she didn't know whether if to go along with it, to tell Clarke that  _yes, she appreciated the drawing, despite its obvious… faults and adjustments_ , or to kindly put the Clarke down. Finally, she ended it with a disbelieved, slightly non-committal: ''… okay.''

Clarke had no idea it was possible for the Commander to speak in fragments until now.

And if she wasn't drowning in laughter already, she definitely  _was_ now. Only that she wasn't physically  _laughing,_ but bottling it up inside while trying desperately to suppress it all, which made her feel like her lungs would burst at any given moment and had her cheekbones hurting with the amount she was smiling at. Oh god, if anyone could die of laughter, then Clarke certainly would be the first one to make that list.

And at the entirety of this all, Madi grinned, and Clarke had to return her grin, despite the impending death sentence that probably hung over her head (Heda-related ones, and laughing-related ones alike), as if they were exchanging a non-verbal high-five.

And for one moment, even at Lexa's utter confusion, even at Madi's fitful giggles that rendered the child totally incoherent, even at Clarke's attempted glaring that was all ruined by trying to stifling in her uncontrollable laughter, it felt like they were family.

…

_One Month._

Nightmares: 12 nights. 8 about him. 4 about them. 10 nights in Lexa's room. 5 nights no sleep.

Progress: bad

_Two Months._

Nightmares: 18 nights. 15 about him. 1 about them. 2 other. 8 nights in Lexa's room. 4 nights no sleep. Trebuchet: 1

Progress: worse

_Three Months._

Nightmares: 15 nights. 12 about him. 3 other. 8 nights in Lexa's room. 2 nights no sleep. Trebuchets made: 1 1/2

Progress: better but still bad

_Four Months._

Nightmares: 17 nights. 16 about him. 1 other. 5 nights in Lexa's room. 6 nights no sleep. Trebuchets made: 2

Progress: not good

_Five Months._

Nightmares: 14 nights. 10 about him. 1 about them. 3 other. 3 nights in Lexa's room. 1 night no sleep. Trebuchets made: 1/2

Progress: okay, less

Six Months.

Nightmares: 9 nights. 5 about him. 3 about them. 1 other. 4 nights in Lexa's room. Trebuchets made: 0

Progress: good

_Seven Months._

Nightmares: 10 nights. 5 about him. 0 about them. 1 night in Lexa's room. 5 nights no sleep. Trebuchets made: 3

Progress: no

_Eight Months._

Nightmares: 8 nights. 2 about him. 2 about them. 4 other. 0 nights in Lexa's room. 1 night no sleep. Trebuchets made: 0

Progress: okay

_Nine Months._

Nightmares: 3 nights. 1 about him. 2 about them. 2 nights in Lexa's room. 1 night no sleep. Trebuchets made: 1

Progress: good

_Ten Months._

Nightmares: 2 nights. 0 about him. 1 about them. 1 night in Lexa's room. 0 nights no sleep. Trebuchets made: 0

Progress: very good

…

Only one light was alight, in a village of the dead.

Two figures. Two figures were inside; their shadows cast out into the black, amidst the torch of flickering light within. One of them standing; another half the size of the other; a torch between them as they conserved. Their mouths moved in bursts— their hands wild, sporadic, as if to express a point— as they made garbled sounds it couldn't hear; their restricted movement was testament enough to their frustrations. Arguments.

The shadow took a gaze, and its eyes dropped away from the village. Breathed in; out. Swayed; almost took a step forward.

Almost.

Till it caught itself. And so, twisting its head away from the scene, it shrugged the bow from its shoulder; and followed the steps off into the night.

…

_Hundred and First Night._

_Got dream about him._

_We were in my cave, me an' him. I was there an' I was wearing a bunch of really dirty clothes and I had my bow and there was a lot of arrowheads so I knew it was my cave, 'cause I was back there durin' one of those 58 nights. Twasn't his cave yet._

_He was in front of me, in 'ta light. I got to talk to him. He was sad. I don't really remember what I asked but he said somethin' about a mistake. Like maybe he was wrong or somethin'._

_But I dunno. Was it really him or was it just all in my head? I dunno, I hope it was the first one. 'Cause that'd mean that he knows in his heart that he wasn't right an' I can stop arguing with myself about Carl and his reasons anymore._

_I know I shouldn't be writing this. Cause I promised myself that I wouldn't write down anything related to him anymore to stop the bad dreams. But this one kinda felt like a good one._

_..._

_Epilogue:_

Madi never forgot about Emerson.

There were no nightmares about her family; not anymore. Instead, they were replaced with memories of Emerson, his bloody coughs, a rueful grin, iterations of their stories told, the ones about  _love_  and  _family_ , and then—two loud gunshots, a hole in his head, brain matter splaying across the cavern, painting the dreary cold walls with gore.

And every time the nightmares came and became too much to take, she knocked on the door to Clarke and Lexa's room and slipped in between the warmth of the two of them. Lexa never asked what the nightmares were, and Madi didn't want to share. After all, she couldn't have them worrying about Emerson—especially not after the day was done and they never spoke of him again.

Maybe Clarke and Lexa thought she'd forget. Maybe thought she was too young, and would soon grow too old to remember. Maybe thought it wasn't worth mentioning if all it did was arouse the memories that they've tried so hard to forget. Maybe… maybe…

But there was no way she wouldn't not remember.

**END YEAR TWO.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that concludes Year Two! Holy crap that was a ride. So much insanity in the last few chapters and things and everything -- I hope that this will suffice. :D
> 
> As for the upcoming Year — the update schedule for Year Three will be the same, but I can guarantee for sure that you will be getting longer chapters each. Expect around 2k~3k words every chapter, and in-between days updates. :D
> 
> _Quick question: what was your favourite bit, and why? :D_
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading! Wouldn't know what to do without your support, and thank you so much for getting so far with me! <33


	39. THREE: Flames Can't Quell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Clexa set a road trip. Yes, really.

**YEAR THREE.**

_Desert…_

_An endless expanse of yellow-white. The hot, hot marble of fire blazing above, its heat beating down on her, the perspiration slick against her skin. She felt unimaginable heat chorus through her, felt the burning pain, and then the awash of cool, dousing the scrouging heat, a momentary reprieve from the fire, fell through her skin._

_A gasp. And when the relief was over, when the cool slipped from her hands, too, too quickly, and there was nothing left but the licks of flame, panic seethed in her mind._

_Clarke! Why did you—_

_A hoarse hush returned her to her senses. She blinked, dazedly, wet eyes scanning the desert. Endless, endless white and yellow, the sun's rays haggardly blinding half her vision. And then she saw—with a disbelieved glance—an oasis shining beside her, its cool water glistening in the rays._

_A hoarse hush, a breathed smile. Clarke gets up from her knee, she struggles, she dances, she moves with her until the haven's but within a grasp's reach._

_You'll be okay._

_Fire. It doesn't go away. And yet a gasp slips from her mouth and she revels in the cool relief dancing beneath her fingers; and then some when she slips in. At first she's drowning, sinking in beneath the pond, feeling the water underneath her skin. The water's hot, but it's cooler than she'd ever felt in the blaze. But then she feels drugged warmth under her shoulders; hotter than the fire, the water; and she's brought back to the surface._

_And then she smiles, bitterly at first, at the levity of the situation they're in, but then truth breaks out on her smile when the cool envelops her and she feels... bliss. Warmth hoists her up, but that's overwhelmed by the cold, and though she feels the burning it's no longer on the centre of her mind._

_You'll be okay, is what they say to each other, during the burning days and the deathly nights, mumbling and shouting all the same, as if it's some rapport for them to stay alive. As if only one of them could survive, and so they say it to the other, in confidence or credence or perhaps simply hope, because both thought the other had a better chance than themselves._

_We'll be okay, is what she tells herself instead._

_We'll be okay._

...

''We need to get to Becca's Laboratory.''

It was the first thing Clarke said after Lexa had told Madi a story and made sure she was asleep, before entering the living room in tiredness. ''For what?'' Lexa found herself voicing, though she knew the answers, all too clearly.

She just wished she didn't.

Clarke's gaze reverted from the counter, where they had sorted out what was left in their bags on top, and to Lexa, who averted her eyes at the unspoken words. ''Resources,'' Clarke said finally, after a moment of contemplation. Gazed at Lexa, hoping for a reply that would satisfy the both of them.

Lexa blinked, once, twice at Clarke's abrupt words, and shook her head. Because she couldn't go there, not now, when her brain was addled with a drunken lightness and all she felt for was sleep. She closed her eyes shut, waiting for the words to process in her mind, and when she found her answer opened them again, meeting Clarke's eyes. ''We have plenty of resources, Clarke. And we took what we could from Becca's Laboratory. There is no need to return there... especially not when there is a seven-day journey standing between us.''

A low sigh emanated from her breath, as she thought of the weeks they've stayed there when the radiation was strongest when the aftermath of Praimfaya raged outside.  _Clarke, screaming, screaming like I once had when the bullet lodged in my spine, skin blistering with heat, eyes pleading for me to end it all. Myself, in constant, begging pain, another layer of fire searing my skin, my throat, my eyes, the black blood in my veins not enough to prevent the onslaught Praimfaya brought, hating myself for being incapable, hating myself for being the only one stuck with Clarke, envisioning how things could've been so much easier with my legs, or with someone else, capable, taking care of her._

Clarke's eyes were still turned on her as if waiting for an elaboration, but the answer she received was Lexa's gaze. Her gaze was wistful, but no regret or longing was seeded into it. ''There is nothing left there but memories that need not be remembered.''

Clarke sighed, placing a hand on the counter. ''... yeah,'' she muttered. ''I don't want to remember either.''

However, when Lexa's eyes returned to meet Clarke's once again, she noticed a spark. And when Clarke took a breath, opened her mouth to speak, Lexa realised what was coming. ''But Lexa— Becca's Laboratory is virtually a treasure trove, with equipment and radios that we left behind because we couldn't bring it all with us.''

A fleeting look around, and Clarke looked as if a flame of hope had been lit from inside of her. She lifted her hands from the counter, paced towards Lexa until she was a meter away. And when their gazes met, she saw Clarke's eyes, alight with passion. ''We can use it—rig it to connect with Bellamy and the others.'' And at her unrelenting gaze, another sigh lingering in the air, Clarke gazed at her in equal intensity and said: '' _Lexa_ , we managed to make the truck work. I don't think it'll be that far of a stretch.'' There was pause, as Lexa contemplated Clarke's words, the words she tried not to think of since they arrived at Shallow Valley. ''The journey wouldn't take seven days, either. We're using the truck.''

 _And no more pain in trying to drag a wheelchair along in the desert,_  Lexa thought. But she found herself agreeing with Clarke, despite it all. There was a large scale of resources that they left behind in Becca's Laboratory, due to the fact that they could only bring what they carried in their backpacks and hands. Most of the leftover parts would likely prove useful in an endeavour connecting themselves with Bellamy, and even if that weren't possible, having resources were better than having none.

_(And it wouldn't involve seven days of nonstop pain. You knew this was eventual, Lexa. Braving the desert a second time cannot be harder than what had already been done.)_

''Alright, Clarke,'' Lexa found herself saying. ''We'll go.'' Then, her eyes narrowed, because there was something missing in Clarke's plan. One variable that was in neither of their plans in the very first place.  _Madi_.

 _Madi_. And just for confirmation, Lexa cleared her throat, met Clarke's gaze, and voiced: ''We are bringing Madi along, correct?''

Clarke almost gaped at Lexa's words. ''We are not bringing Madi along. No way.''

She glanced at Clarke in disbelief.  _What?_  ''Were you expecting to leave her here? No, Clarke. That is not happening.''

''But...'' Clarke appeared panicked, as her eyes darted around from the floorboards to the ceiling to meet Lexa's face, as if backtracking on the plan that she had advocated so desperately for. ''... Madi isn't ready for Becca's Laboratory. Not yet.''

Lexa gazed coldly at Clarke. ''And why not?''

''Because—because there's still  _blood on the tables_ , Lexa!  _His_  blood! Bone marrow, tissue samples, the prototype serums. There's still...'' and this Clarke sighed. When she spoke again, her tone was more controlled. ''You... you know how she feels about Emerson. She—she'll hate us if she ever saw what we did to him.''

Lexa could've said many things. She could've said how there wouldn't be a viable explanation as to their leave for up to seven days, to the reasoning that if Madi didn't hate them now, for killing Emerson, then she wouldn't hate them then. But only one response formed in her mouth.

''And Madi could use the closure.''

Clarke's eyes flickered away from Lexa's, as Lexa looked expectantly on. And finally, after a while of contemplation, Clarke let out a final sigh, gaze reverting to Lexa. ''Alright, then. We bring her along.''

…

_There's nothing but the fire, she thinks, as her gaze reaches out to the blurring expanse._

_There's burning, an infernal fire, a blazing holocaust, and her body exhumes the sea in response. Sweating, beads, droplets, so much she's matted with it and she can't tell the difference between her clothes clinging to herself and the heated, melding sweat itself. She burns, she's the fire, she's the sea until there's no sweat left for her body to cry._

_She tastes sand. Dry, caking, salty, and her stomach screams in a muted cry. There's a fox gnawing in her stomach, and the feline grows hungrier the more it claws—until there's a hollow canvas where her abdomen used to be, a fox curled within, gnawing at the measly bits of flesh left, and it doesn't hesitate in making its shriek._

_There's no end._

...

''Where are we going?'' Madi asked in excitement, as they moved the stuff they needed into the truck. Two week's supply of rations, two crates of water from the well, some towels to wipe the truck's solar panels, and a few miscellaneous items was what they pushed to the back of the truck. Though supplies were important, they did need the space to load the resources they got from Becca's Lab back. It would be, after all, a long journey.

''You'll see.'' Clarke murmured, as she put her backpack in the driver's seat. She wasn't entirely dead-set on Madi following them along, and Madi's excitement at going somewhere away from Shallow Valley crushed Clarke a little bit more, because what then when Madi realised that they were bringing her to the place where Emerson had fueled and smothered his vengeance against them?

Meanwhile, Lexa had been showing Madi a roughly-sketched map of the entirety of their land, citing the Dead Zone as their destination, to which Madi let out a loud gasp and exclaimed:  _''The Dead Zone? No way!''_ much to Clarke's chagrin as she checked the truck, making sure everything was set.

As she climbed into the back of the truck in a final check of supplies, she found a model trebuchet sat on top of one of the water crates. Clarke stifled a sigh and a smile, and taking the trebuchet in hand, narrowly avoiding an immersed Madi and an explaining Lexa along the way, left it in the abode.  _Not today, Madi._

Once she returned, she was greeted with the sight of Madi climbing into the truck. ''Clarke...'' Lexa motioned to her with a nod, and Clarke watched as she moved into the truck.

After Lexa settled into the truck, Clarke dismantled and folded her wheelchair and placed it out back, albeit with some grunts and hefting. And after they were all settled, with Clarke sat behind the wheel, Lexa sat in the shotgun with Madi squeezed between them, Clarke revved the engine and off they went, leaving Shallow Valley behind.

Madi had never been outside of Shallow Valley, at least not since Praimfaya struck. She knew that they were gonna leave Shallow Valley  _eventually_ , and that was now in form of a road trip, she knew that she was gonna see places other than her home,  _she knew that…_  but nothing could've absolutely prepared her for what was outside.

Everything outside of Shallow Valley was a horror. After the initial hour of settling in, chatting and some carefree doodling in her notebooks, the truck had taken a while to leave the Valley, but when it did it had winded about and jolted outside the territory of her home. And though it chugged along like nothing was wrong, Madi couldn't believe the change that had transformed outside.

Dust was the only thing she saw in Trikru's once-forests, with nothing else left. The largest trees—mangled, twisted, deformed, ashen with white were the only ones that filled the sparing forests, because the others had been incinerated on the spot when Praimfaya struck. Bushes that were charred to a crisp dotted around the ''forests'', if they could even be  _called_ one in the first place.

The truck sped along the grimy white ash, that bore a resemblance to desert sands and, well, the ash of the dead after the trials by fire. It was as if she was in a desert, even though she knew very well that she was in Trikru's territories, and Madi had to rub her eyes in a chance that she was in a dream.

Both Lexa and Clarke had been solemn, tight-lipped as they drove on, as Madi eyed the destruction Praimfaya brought as they sped on by. And when Madi thought about it, the worse she felt for them. Shallow Valley, somewhere that was her home had been saved from the destruction of Praimfaya. But what about Trikru, which was Lexa's entire childhood? And what for everything Clarke's people had built and created since they fell to Earth, that was all dust and rubble now?

Madi felt troubled but tried not to think about it. As she watched the dead white whisk by and witnessed the dead everything around them.

…

_Alone. She's all alone._

_Staggering through the dark withered trees. Pushes, through sheer will alone, presses her hands against the stubborn bark and pushes herself through. And when her hand leaves the flaky wood and goes onto the next rough patch; there's a thud, her legs sink to the soft earth, and when she removes her fingers from the rind, there is ashen soot that eats at her red raw flesh._

_She's dying, but she doesn't care. She has to get there, even if it saps what little of life she has left._

_She looks, her eyes turned southwest, to the shambled city. She can't see it, she's not there, but she looks._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Year Three's beginning! *cheers incoherently* I'd love to know what you think so far!
> 
> There will be road trips and Clexa, and lots more upcoming! :D


	40. Rations and Roads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family Road Trip Shenanigans. Yes, no, really - kinda?

They had made a stop in the middle of Trikru.

Madi didn't know where it was, exactly, only that there were a bunch of unmistakably dead, ashen remains of trees and that there were no landmarks nearby. But if she had to pinpoint it somewhere on the map, she would put it about halfway into the territories of the Woods Clan. Because they had been travelling for a long time in that truck, and after the feeling of exhilaration had worn off, Madi had felt extremely cramped and sore and tired for being in that truck for so long.

So she was pretty relieved when Clarke made a stop after the sun went down, and told them that they would be camping out for the night. It wasn't  _exactly_ a camp-out, not really because they were gonna sleep in the truck instead of inside the tents, but making a bonfire and talking stories by the campfire was a camp enough by Madi's means.

For the night, they roasted a rabbit they've brought from Shallow Valley. Madi had eaten it heartfully, and after a whole lot of storytelling and eventual sleepiness, she settled into the comfy seat-row in the front of the truck for the night, which was just her length. And even as she couldn't sleep she watched the stars outside from the open door; and felt a little bit better about herself.

…

Finding a Dropship in the midst of an irradiated forest proved easier than she'd expected.

They had gone as far into the forests as they could go and stopped when there were far too many broken, shrivelled trees littered together than the truck could pass or surmount. From there on, Clarke set out on foot, with Madi by her side. She had invited Lexa to come along with her, but she was adamant about staying, because all in one,  _they_  were once Clarke's people, and the Heda was, after all, partially at fault for their deaths. And though Clarke didn't voice it, she appreciated Lexa's discretion. There were memories, far too much than Clarke had wished to have, and though Lexa's presence was usually comforting, in this instance it would've doubled the weight she felt, doubled the atmosphere of death. Worse than for the better.

It was the only grave she could visit; in a sea of a million dead.

There was one by a valley; which she'd buried before Praimfaya struck, the dozen that followed them in a band. She couldn't remember where it was—because the pain, the heat, the sluggishness was too much for her even to distinctly recall those days—aside from a notebook, which she'd stashed away and tried to forget about because those seven days were ones she didn't need to remember. And there were the graves of the eighteen killed by Finn; another eighteen that were murdered by Pike; and both the perpetrator's tombs as well, all of which she knew was in Trikru but didn't know  _where._

This was the only one she knew for certain was.

And she had to make sure of one thing.

The bodies.

She shouldn't care, not really, and from her mind, she dredged up Lexa's words— _the dead are gone, Clarke. The living are hungry._ But even though she might've well just forgotten, she was never going to forget. And she especially wouldn't forgive herself if she forgot that she remembered.

Through the dead trees and the ashy ground, Clarke spotted the Dropship in the middle of a clearing. Making a beeline through the elevated ground and tightly-woven trees, despite Madi's weak protests, she marched on.

And when she made it to the clearing, she looked around and prayed her memory was right. With a small breath, a drink of water to muster up her confidence, she followed the line of shrivelled trees by the far end of the Dropship to enter a smaller clearing.

_Please be there. Please be there. Please be there…_

The first sight she saw was a mess. Trees, shrivelled and broken on the ground. Branches all over the soil, as if it were some frantic party-decoration. Soil, swallowing up mounds and then some more…

It was messy, but it was  _there_. Underneath a land of irradiated soil, beside wilted trees and dead bushes, but it was  _there._ Not undamaged, yes, but not gone either. It was  _there_ , and that was what mattered.

 _Good_. Clarke stifled a gulp. She wouldn't've known what she would've done if their graves were destroyed by the onset of Praimfaya, obliterated like they never existed. And worse, if their bodies were overturned and unearthed because of the blaze of radiation, skulls and bones scattered, her, desperate for the dead's absolution, not knowing which body belonged to who and desperately trying to put them back…

She didn't want to think about it.

''I'm sorry,'' Madi murmured to Clarke, glancing at her as she gazed over the mounds of soil, stretching out long and wide, far and long enough for her to sprint through. It hadn't been like this, not at first, when it was supposed to be a burial site for those that dropped in The 100 that were dead. But when the death toll heaped, and the survivor's numbers lowered, the Skaikru's bodies had been brought here to bury. And so they were.

Clarke didn't respond, but nodded in the slightest at Madi's words, though far away, and gazed on the mounds of dirt, until she heard Madi whisper: ''—t-there's a lot of them. H-how did they die…?'' she said hoarsely, and looked up to her, eyes wide, as if fearing she'd offended her.

Clarke's eyes flickered downward to meet Madi's. ''They died in war,'' she supplied because  _Lexa's people_ and  _a misunderstanding between the tribes_ prompted a can of worms with far too many questions than she'd rather answer now.

Madi's next words were barely a whisper. ''Do-do you remember their stories?''

Clarke's gaze returned to Madi, her expression filtering through emotions like a flame's fickle fire, until it settled for a small, wistful smile. ''Would you like to hear them?''

…

''Wait.  _Seriously?!_ He did a crime all so he could keep you company down here?  _Wow_.'' Madi said, eyes wide in disbelief.

A wistful smile was on Clarke's lips. ''Can you believe it?'' she said with a small, saddened chuckle. ''Even—even though I had hated him at the time for that.''

Madi's mouth formed a small o. ''But why?'' she asked in curiosity. ''I mean… he literally committed a crime so he could come with you down here. What happened?''

Clarke waved her off with a small smile, to keep the worry from Madi's face. ''Nothing much,'' she said casually, and added: ''Just a misunderstanding.''

But at Madi's urging gaze, Clarke sighed and broke down. ''My—my Dad died on the Ark. He was executed for treason because he realised that there were only four month's left of oxygen until everyone died. At first—at first, I thought it was Wells who sold him out since he was the only one I told, but later I realised it was my Mom.'' Madi's gaze flickered away from Clarke's glinting eyes. And then, quieter: ''He let me hate him, so I wouldn't have to hate my own Mother for what she did.''

Madi was quiet. ''Sorry, Clarke.'' she murmured because she didn't know what else to say.

Clarke sighed, softly, at the prospect of her family. But then, there was a small chuckle, because the thoughts of  _family_  inevitably led to Lexa and Madi, and then a slight, renewed smile formed over her features, much to Madi's bewilderment. ''But hey, we aren't talking about me now. We're talking about  _them,_ right?'' And at Madi's eager nod, Clarke chuckled. ''As I was saying…''

_…_

After Clarke and Madi had left the Dropship behind (with two armfuls and a bag of parts they had scavenged from the Dropship itself), they had driven through the afternoon until the sun had set and it was night. Though the trio was starving, Clarke was determined to stop at Arkadia before they clocked in for the night.

Most of the truck-driving time was passed with storytelling  _(''Tell me about the time when you set camp and burned stuff in the center of Trikru's territory!''_ Or:  _''Tell me about the time when you met Lexa!'',_ which, admittedly, was filled with a lot more stammering and blushing than was necessary), questions (ie.  _''Clarke, I didn't know there was a time when you went all red-haired!''_ Or:  _''Can you teach me how to not smell without taking a bath like you did after you did the Wanheda stuff?''_ which, admittedly, made her seem like less of a role-model than she'd hoped to be), and quizzes ( _''Who was bestowed with the title of yontsleya-gona?'' ''—No, Madi, it was not me—''),_ until finally, after what felt like forever, their truck screeched to a stop at Arkadia.

_(And just in time too. Clarke really didn't want to answer those questions surrounding hygiene. Soap, though sometimes unnecessary, was_ **_really_ ** _vital to one's personal hygiene. And no, she did not remicise about that time she spent in the forests without soap. Nope—)_

Madi had been awestruck at the gigantic remains of the spaceship that once circled the sky, and in her excitement, had nearly tripped herself over trying to gather spare parts here and there, despite Clarke's weak protests on how it might've been dangerous. Whereas Lexa had gazed over its remains and made a small comment on how it was different since she last visited.

They had set camp there for the night—after all, there  _were_  resources to take from Arkadia, even if Praimfaya did sweep through its land. Clarke decided to rummage through Arkadia at least a few times—after all, it  _was_ once a spaceship in space, and things on spaceships usually proved useful in endeavours trying to communicate with another spaceship in space. So there was that.

But while rummaging through the interior of the Ark, she came across a letter.

''For Monty,'' was written in neatly-scripted cursive, and Clarke felt a pang because she recognised the handwriting, and knew who it was from. Carefully peeling the sealed envelope, she opened the letter, and read its contents.

She had it re-read, once, twice, thrice. Focused on the words; mused over the sentences; felt her heart drop every time. And after what felt like forever, Clarke's gaze had flickered away, and she carefully slipped the letter back into its envelope. She stuffed it in her jacket-pocket, promising herself to think about it later, took the pair of goggles hanging on a broom, and stepped back outside to feel the cold night's breeze rush through her and to see Madi and Lexa setting camp, striking a fire amid a pile of ash and wood.

Though they had nothing to cook or smoke, it was needed to keep themselves warm through the night. And so, Clarke jogged towards the duo and helped with whatever she could, and after the flame had been alight and was smothered under a pile of wood to protect it against the cold night's breeze, Clarke approached the back of their truck, crawled in and took three ration packets from their stores.

They deserved it.

And so, Clarke had returned outside to find the fire blazing, to Madi hopping around the camp excitedly, with Lexa staring at Madi with some form of a smile on her face. She let out a small breath, feeling the eventual smile cross her face, and jogged towards the duo with a yell of dinner.

...

''Mmf!'' Madi said between her near-rabid snarfing down of the biscuit-rations, which scared Clarke more than she would admit. ''Th-this's good! Clarke, why-why don't we eat this more?''

Clarke let out a chuckle, even though her heart was filled with dread, mainly for the rations that lay plainly out back in the truck. It wasn't so much as  _stealing_ than gobbling up all the biscuits there was inside, subsequently throwing it all up, and leaving them to starve in the middle of what was, in all instances, somewhere that was practically a desert-forest. ''It's called  _ration_   _packets_  for a reason, Madi.'' And at Madi's scowl, she gave a hint of a grin in amusement, and inside of her brain placed a reminder to shut the truck door at all times in case of a certain hungry Nightblood looking for a quick snack.

Lexa smiled at Clarke, with a shake of her head, her own rations hanging loosely from her hand. ''I do not share your love for them,'' she said slightly, almost in mild exasperation.

''That's because you hunt too much!'' Madi responded in a bout of fervour, as she licked the crumbs on her lips.

Lexa didn't respond, but took another bite from the rations, hiding the small exasperated smile that was beginning to form on her face.

And Clarke smiled and placed the second reminder in the back of her mind to bolt shut the truck back at all times.

…

_There's nothing but a howl that batters her skin and the sinking murk beneath her feet._

_It's not a mud undergrowth. Nor is it sludge or is it a desert. But when the ground turns to mush; like ice into water; a grinning liquefaction that was an afterthought from the Death Wave; then what do you call it?_

_It squelches under her shaking knees, even as she pushes through its quicksand. She does not think about it. After the flurry of fiery chaos rammed down on her land, murdered all the living in its scowling vicinity, and left only herself alive as if her life was some cruel joke for the universe to be toyed with—she does not want to think about anything, for her mind was too sluggish to comprehend anything outside of survival, and she could not afford to think about anything but that._

_But a part of her realises she doesn't care anymore. It was all the same. And so, she asks: why? Even as she struggles through the lounging ash and grasps her way through a land of barren grey that was no more, even as she gazes upon her blistered skin, frothing and withered to the fleshy black bone, she knows it is futile. So why was she trying?_

_There's nothing she could do. And yet she struggles; for though she wishes not to survive herself, she is the Last, and the Last must fight. For it would be a dishonour to her people if she had curled up and let herself wither—even if it were all she wanted, with all her soul and heart that was left—she knew she could not._

_She had to survive. For the sake of her people only, and only that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, fun stuff! Welcome all and any guesses on whom the Last might be and hooray for Clexakru (Clexadi kru?) shenanigans :D 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Hopefully this'll suffice, and I'll see you in the next update! :D


	41. Cities Tarnished (Locus Bygone)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein they talk about a certain forgotten city.

It was morning when Clarke woke to the interior of a truck. She groaned, stretching herself. Her back hurt from sleeping on the cold risened lines of the truck storage. Wrenching herself up and twisting her sleeping bag while she was at it, she found that the sleeping bag next to her was empty. After disentangling herself, Clarke slipped herself out and stumbled down the truck to meet the daylight shining in her eyes.

Lexa was already outside, gazing at the remains of the fire from last night. Embers were all that was left, surrounded by burnt branches and an ash of leaves. In her hand was a notebook. Her gaze swivelled to meet Clarke's after she stumbled from the truck, as Clarke moved to approach her at where they set camp last night.

When Lexa met Clarke's eyes, it was solemn. She passed the notebook to Clarke, who took it whilst rubbing her eyes, in an attempt to discern its contents. When her eyes finally digested the contents of the map, particularly the route and the stops in-between to Becca's Laboratory, Clarke's eyes widened when she realised what it was about.

''We are not telling her about Polis!'' Clarke said as she began to pace, but stopped, and picked up again around the clearing. In the middle smoked the remains of the dead fire from last night, as the fresh, acrid smell of the radiation and the dead forest hung between them.

Lexa sighed as her eyes traced Clarke around the forest, who was refusing to meet her eyes. ''We have to, Clarke. Eventually. When does she figure out that we are not the only ones left on Earth, but that there are a thousand living under the tower of Polis that are trapped, helpless from leave? That the bunker can only be opened from the outside, and that lies in our hands?''

''Just let it be!'' Clarke ran her fingers through her hair. Anguish coloured her normally-guarded expression. ''We can just visit Polis a-and not mention it at all! It wouldn't matter!'' And at Lexa's sigh, Clarke grew desperate. ''Lexa, you know how she is. If she ever finds out that there are people trapped in a bunker—that there are still others alive aside from us—you know she won't hesitate in trying to save them. We will never hear the end of it.''

''What is this  _for_ , Clarke?'' Lexa asked, face contorted in a mix of pain and anger. ''The longer you wait, the further she strays from us, Clarke. When we tell her, and if we don't tell her  _now_ —'' and at Clarke's distress, the solemn ache in her heart fell, ''—she will distance herself from us for the secrets we've kept.''

''She  _can't_ , Lexa. She's just a kid.'' Clarke protested.

''She knows more than you  _think_ ,  _Clarke_.''

''They're not our people, Lexa.'' Clarke shook her head. ''Not anymore. Our people are in space, Lexa. Octavia—'' and then, she stopped. Troubled. ''We're not telling Madi about Polis. Period.''

''Just because Octavia exiled me does not mean we shouldn't—''

''—not tell me about what?'' Madi yawned, stumbling outside from the truck. Rubbing her eyes as she glanced sleepily at them both.

Clarke and Lexa both froze until Lexa said icily: ''Go back to sleep, Madi. This concerns none of your business.''

''I'm pretty sure I heard my name.'' But then, she shrugged. ''But okay. Whatever.'' And with that, Madi climbed back into the truck, while casting a few looks back.

''Lexa…'' Clarke said. Emotions—so many emotions had run her tone, and of it, all Lexa could only discern anguish and hope. And hidden within— quiet, quiet acceptance.

''Madi.'' Lexa said firmly, as she wheeled towards the truck, even as Clarke stared at her in a flurry of emotions she wished she couldn't see. ''There is somewhere I need to bring you to.''

…

 _Marble_   _enters her vision._

_She blinks, but it is not a mirage. The glistening shapes jar with the slow steps, the jostles from the movement, and she blinks haphazardly away at the light. She sees white, glowing lines, an illumination through the simmering heat, but she is not dreaming._

_''Polis,'' she croaks, from her cracked throat._

_She feels quicker jostles, she's tightened in Clarke's cradle. There is no response, but that was the least of her worries._

_They hike towards Polis._

_Her blurring vision scans the expanse. And it is in that moment she is glad for the blur, for she cannot see the true extent of ruin that it was. No longer grandiose; no longer her city, her people—she knows, yet she does not want to look._

_She is set down, and her limbs roll slack from her chest, her legs twisted awkwardly, but she doesn't have the strength to move. Closes her eyes; felt the simmering heat and sliming perspiration prick her skin. Lolls her head back, swallows with difficulty with her parched throat._

_There is a thump, a burst of sand—Clarke plops down next to her. Clarke unscrews a cap, and downs the last of her water in her bottle. Her eyes tiredly flick towards Clarke, who had swallowed the water with a gasp—if she was not wrong, there was a water-well hidden near the corners of Polis, if it were not gone._

_They sit in the midst of the torturous sun until Clarke moves away from the rock. Lexa gazes at her figure, as she stumbles around the city. From a distance, she hears: ''There is life.''_

_''What?'' she breathes out, and childlike hope blossoms in her chest, her eyes dilate—she did not know if she was hearing true._

_''There is life,'' is croaked again, and suddenly, she feels a surge burst from her the back of her neck. Its energy snakes through her slack limbs; through her tingling skin, and with renewed vigour, she pushes herself up._

_Her eyes follow Clarke's pointed finger upwards—and there is a raven swirling above, circling the tower of Polis. Withered to the bone, clumps of feathers in its chest and wings and raw pink everywhere else—but it is alive._

_She meets Clarke's eyes, and it is in that instant that they know what to do._

_…_

_Notebook - 770 days since Praimfaya_

_Truck driving has been weirdly silent. Both Clarke and Lexa look pretty stiff. I mean, I tried to get them to talk a little, but they just didn't seem interested. So I'm writing here instead._

_Usually, going to places is a good thing, but for some reason this one's different. Lexa didn't say anything after she told me we were going somewhere. Clarke's gripping at the steering wheel pretty hard. She's angry, but I dunno why._

_I think they fought. I don't like it when they fight._

_I really hope it's nothing too bad. Cause I dunno know what to do if it was._

…

''Holy Spirits! What is that?'' Madi exclaimed as she peered out of the truck to gaze at an enormous, burnt-looking mountain, fortified with rusted metal—as from it trickled a waterfall's cascade as if nature had eaten back into it.

''That—'' Clarke said, her voice unusually constricted, despite her normal tone, ''—that is Mount Weather.''

''Oh.'' Madi didn't sound scared or surprised—her tone remained glumly neutral, which was curious for a child that was notoriously known to become practically alight with delight whenever she was met with some monument or relic of the past. It didn't settle well with Clarke, but she let the feeling pass.

''Still standing after Praimfaya,'' Lexa murmured in observation. If anything, Madi's eyes seemed to flicker away. Clarke felt a cold stirring in her gut.  _Was Madi okay…?_

But thankfully, when Clarke met Madi's gaze in concern, there was no shadow of a haunt or the telltale frantic gaze on Madi's face that told them she was back in the past—that she was remembering. Involuntarily, Clarke stepped harder on the pedal. They had to get out of there as fast as possible

Meanwhile, Madi redirected her queries to Lexa, who was a shade reluctant to respond. Out of the corner of Clarke's eye, she saw Madi's furrowed brow. ''Why can't we live in Mount Weather? It seems like a nice enough place. Really well defended, right?'' she asked, turning a curious eye towards Lexa.

Clarke nearly baulked at the question but managed to regain control of the truck's steering wheel.  _Was Madi admiring Mount Weather's defence mechanisms?_

_But then again, it did have the world's state of the art technology, right? So someone who was a young aspiring tinkerer was bound to admire a place filled with the world's best machinery and the rest of its innards? Even if the citizens there did try to drain all my people's blood for medical health benefits?_

To be fair, what was she expecting? This was Madi she was talking about, right?

''It has quite some practical defences against an invasion,'' Lexa admitted, which had almost made Clarke slam on the brakes. ''Especially with regards to deadly radioactive weaponry. However—the Mountain had been caught in an explosion and coupled with the fact that there is no viable resource around, we cannot live in it.'' Lexa stated.

Madi seemed slightly disappointed. ''That sucks. I think I woulda liked living there,'' she said but nodded to Lexa's explanation. All the while Clarke fixated her eyes on the road, gripped the wheel, and tried to think happy thoughts that didn't involve the Maunon.

…

_Polis?_

_Holy CRAP WE'RE AT POLIS!_

_SPIRITS I NEVER THOUGHT I WAS EVER GONNA COME BACK!_

_NOT AFTER EVERYTHING BUT I'M SO HAPPY WE DID!_

_WHY WAS CLARKE SO ANGRY ABOUT IT ANYWAY?! POLIS IS AMAZING. WHY'D THEY EVEN FIGHT ABOUT IT?!_

_POLIS. OH SPIRITS IT'S POLIS._

_SPIRITS I LOVE YOU!_

…

''Whoa,'' Madi said, staring at the ruins that Praimfaya brought. It was destroyed, rubble all around what she remembered was once a bustling city, the apocalyptic wave of Praimfaya sweeping in and washing by everything it could, 'till all that was left was nought and she felt like she was left staring at the lost city of Atlantis.

Clarke had told her that tale. A lost city under the sea. Polis reminded her of that, but the sea was Praimfaya and the waves were the unseen radiation. Madi gazed on, disappointed and yet awed, her disappointment residing in the fact that it didn't look like anything she'd remembered (and for good reason, too), and awed because of the ruined city-so grand but so fallen, somewhere which was once so imbued with life now… dead, nothing but a bunch of rubble and dust.

''This is Polis.'' she heard Lexa say from beside her. But Madi's focus was entirely on the ruins itself, as though in a trance as if nothing could break her from it. She gazed at Polis like it was an artefact, almost like it was a relic of the past, even if it had only been two years since Praimfaya had struck.

Madi was transfixed as her gaze hopped from one fallen building to the next. Softly, she said, eyes turning to meet Lexa's: ''I— I don't remember it looking like this.''

''Neither do I,'' Lexa found herself murmuring, and at the notice of her own unwarranted comment, she cleared her throat, and said what she came to explain: ''Our people are trapped within.''

Madi was stunned. Still transfixed, still in a trance, but her gaze focused on the rubble that was once Polis' heart instead. And then, quieter, eyes vulnerable with hope: ''Can't we save them?''

''Not now. Not when the radiation persists.'' And at the thought of  _radiation_ , troubling memories overflowed her. Memories of surgeries; of bone marrow and black blood. But Lexa turned her mind away and glimpsed at the afternoon sun.

Madi was quiet until her next question. ''When can we…?''

''Two years. Two more years.'' Lexa stated. She knew the number by her heart; and yet, she still dreaded it even as it counted down. For even if they were her people (and she would have to free them, eventually, despite Clarke's possible disapproval), she did not wish to endure through the chaos that would reign—about the Commanders and of blood—after those underneath were freed.

''Do they have food? Do they have water? How many are in there? How do they even see the sun in there?'' Madi said, clearly distressed from the knowledge.

Lexa tried to answer the questions but found that she couldn't. ''1,200,'' was the only number she knew for sure, and that was it.

''1,200 people?'' Madi gawked. ''Why didn't you tell me this earlier?''

Lexa exhaled a tired breath. ''Because we were waiting for the right time.''

Madi seemed slightly disgruntled and moreso distraught, but it was soon brushed off. ''… okay. When can we come back?'' she said, and instead of being shaken, turned at Lexa with an eagerness she didn't know was within her.

Lexa's surprise showed. ''After we return from Becca's Laboratory. We can come back in two weeks.''

…

_She's there. She's in the city._

_Only that it is a city no longer. Desecrated; shattered; broken, and she almost chuckles, for even the wilted trees had fared better._

_No one is here. Not an echo of a survivor left. Not a footstep, nor a sound; not an animal or a human in sight._

_There is no one. And when the stifling thought dawns, her head's thrown back in a laugh. She laughs, heartily, for their crimes were dragged into retribution; their miserable lives over, nothing more to be done. She laughs, louder and hysterical, laughs harder than she's ever had before, till the fit's reduced to a chuckle, and she's the only sound within a thousand miles._

_She doesn't remember when the tears fall. Doesn't remember when the chuckles of victory are reduced to sniffles; the tears of triumph are turned into cries. The dead are gone, and yet, she mourns. She cries, but not for them. Her tears are for her people._

_From her belt she slides a knife. Toys with it; watches the silver blade refract the night's sun. Thumbs the initials carved on the hilt; releases a slow, bitter smile._

_Yu gonplei ste odon, she murmurs and traces the initials carved beneath. Turns it over; smiles at the memories, for one last time. She exhales, she breaths in again, she lifts—_

_And her eyes catch a flash of a brown-black blur, a shrieking cry burned in her brain too long—_

_An exhale, and the blade's tossed into the taunting ash._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's not to love about Polis bunker arguments!


	42. Ten Dozen Songs

They drove along the dead forests of Trikru into what was near the territory of Floukru.

Clarke hadn't said anything about Polis during the truck ride, not after they went there. But she seemed like she accepted it—or at least, understood that it was an inevitable, and that they had waited long enough, or as long as they could've. And whatever regret or sorrow Lexa had over it had disippitated once she saw Madi's eager grin and her excitement at coming back to Polis the very next week ''to help out''.

Even Clarke couldn't help but smile at that.

There would be no more stops left. After they drove through Floukru, they would enter the Dead Zone, where they would travel for what was at least a few more days until they would make it to Becca's Lab. All of them were silently preparing themselves for the desert, even though none had voiced it.

And then, out of the blue, Clarke Griffin had begun to  _hum_.

It was a merry tune, something of a whistle as she drove on through the forests. Lexa wondered if she was hearing right. It felt starkly out of place in contrast to the dead life around them, and Lexa nearly had to stifle a disbelieved chuckle.

_Was this revenge for bringing Madi to Polis, or…?_

After a few minutes of the afornmented humming, Madi had joined in the tune, and it was all Lexa could do to not smile. Instead, she glared at the duo, because  _who would hum a tune along the wasteland of the dead?_ But all that happened was Madi grinned at her mischievously as she whistled as she shook Lexa's arm, as if telling her to join in as well. And when Lexa's disbelief wore off and her eyes reverted to Clarke's, Clarke had momentarily paused in her humming (the tune carried by Madi), and returned her with a cheeky  _''what?''_ and deliberately hummed at a louder volume than before.

Lexa regretted the glaring. And so her gaze bore into the windows in front of her, as she watched the truck swallow the roads as the ashen trees went by. After what had felt like an eternity, the tune was dropped by one participant, with the second closely following by, as it faltered to a stop.

A period of silence crossed. It was blissful, beautiful silence. She savoured the feeling of tranquility, of needing not of irritated eardrums and wars. And then she heard Clarke whistle a few notes, and her entire world plummeted. Forcing the smile that was threatening to surface down her throat—

''Oh Spirits, Clarke,  _stop humming!''_

The only response was a laugh, as the notes became a louder song.

…

They had decided to set camp in Floukru's territory, before they entered the lands of the Dead Zone. After all, the only lands that were moderately close to the desert was the Boat People's, and from there on they could enter into the lands of the Dead Zone, saving much of their time from sandstorms or the endless, excruciating heat without shade or water for miles abound.

Even though the lands that Praimfaya razed were practically one in the same, there was a stark difference between somewhere that had become a desert, and somewhere that was already a desert in itself and needed not Praimfaya's aid to turn it into what it was. There was a reason why her people had called it a  _Dead Zone._

Madi had came up to her, after a stroll through the forests in a search for possible firewood and resources. Her eyes were haunted; as if she'd seen a ghost, but it was not like the time when Madi had collapsed because of her memories. It was something else, for though Madi looked haunted, something else razed her expression as well. Fear, and—hope?

''There's tracks,'' Madi mumbled, visibly disturbed as she stumbled towards Lexa. Lexa's eyes had widened, and her hands had rested on the wheels.

''Show me.''

Madi had led her through the dense dead forest and into a clearing, to a set of footprints printed in the dry, cracked mud. It was unusually smooth—even smoother than the lands had already been, no thanks to Praimfaya—as if she was wheeling through solidified ice, without the slipperiness.

Madi kneeled next to the footprints. Then, her eyes turned up from the caked footprints in a place where there was once mud, frozen in time on the ground, gazing questioningly at Lexa. The footprints were of human size, long worn by time, but it still remained. Neither of them spoke; but they knew what it meant. A survivor.

''Maybe it was before Praimfaya?'' Madi murmured, but when they met each other's eyes, both knew neither believed so. Any trace of human existence was wiped clean once Praimfaya had onset. There was no way something as measly as a footprint could've survived the destruction.

And there was another reason. The footprint itself seemed worn, yes, and it had appeared frozen but it was also  _recent_. It couldn't've been long since it was marked—perhaps a year or a half. Frozen in time as the mud caked and dried under the scorching sun, perhaps, or a freak force of nature had the footprints forever petrified. Either way, it was still  _there_.

And as Madi's fingers traced the dry ground around the footprint, Lexa's mind was in another place.  _Floukru_ , she thought, and an inkling of something nagged at the back of her mind. But after some complementation, she turned the thought away. It couldn't be—and neither did she want it to be true—and she couldn't bring herself to think those thoughts yet.

''Emerson's,'' Lexa finally said, looking at Madi, who was studying the footprints. 'It was Emerson's.'' she finalised, even as the doubts bubbled underneath her words.

Madi's gaze turned from the footprints to Lexa. Her fingers traced over the outline. ''Are you sure?''

 _I wish it were._ But Lexa swallowed a breath, and nodded to Madi, beckoning her to stand. ''Come, Madi,'' she cleared her throat, voice unusually hoarse. ''There is nothing more to see. Let us return to camp.''

…

''Clarke, are you serious?!''

A laugh vibrated through the darkness of the spartan interior of the truck. ''Yes, I was!''

Madi's gape was wide-open. ''You  _did_   _not_  just…''

''Spit in the Commander's face, did you?'' A hint of a smile played at the Commander's lips, as she gazed on the duo that had seated themselves on the other side of the close, but incommodious, truck.

 _''CLARKE!''_  Madi whined, looking up to Clarke in disbelief. ''Y'can't just  _CASUALLY SPIT INTO A HEDA'S FACE!''_

''I know, I know okay?!'' Clarke spluttered out. ''But I was mad, and  _pissed_ —angry, I meant  _ANGRY—''_ Clarke desperately tried to cover it up, even as Lexa rolled her eyes at how ridiculous her attempts were, and Madi just let out a low whiny groan, ''—and I just did… the first thing that came to my mind!''

''The first thing that came to your mind was  _spitting into Lexa's face?!''_

''I—okay, I was really  _angry_ , okay?''

''That isn't an  _excuse_!''

''It is not a good excuse,'' Lexa agreed, which made Clarke glance at her desperately. Wasn't she supposed to be on  _her_ side? But Lexa only intentionally looked away from her, which fuelled Clarke's desperation even more. And well, okay, Clarke  _did_ spit in her face, and sure, it wasn't exactly the  _best of times_ , but that was a  _one_   _time_   _thing_ …

''And the both of y-you were  _lovers_ by then!'' Madi said, exasperated. ''Clarke, what's going on in your  _head?!''_

''Not-not good  _thoughts_ , okay?!''

Lexa scoffed. ''Definitely not ' _good_ ','' she said sarcastically, which made Clarke infinitely more thankful that they didn't light a candle, because they definitely didn't need to see how much she was flushing red.

''Lexa—!''

''What?'' she said innocuously, glancing at her with an eye which told her that she knew  _full well_ what was being said.

''Just…'' Clarke sighed in exasperation. She was backed into a corner, literally and figuratively, and there was no way out without the risking of a scarring of a young, impressionable Nightblood's mind. So instead, she said: ''… never mind. I was  _wrong,_ okay? I shouldn't've spat in your nice face. Happy now?''

Lexa didn't respond, but smirked. And that made Clarke involuntarily wonder if she bribed Madi to bring this topic up in the first place  _just_ to embarrass the hell out of her. Though Lexa usually had more honour than that, Clarke wouldn't exactly put it past her…

''But why'd you do that in the first place  _anyway_?!'' Madi whined, apparently still not over it. ''Y-you didn't need to  _spit in the Heda's face!_ E-even if she broke up with you or  _somethin_ '! It's not nice!''

Yes, Clarke was incredibly glad that they  _couldn't_ see the red-hot embarrassment flush in her face. ''I-it was really complicated!'' she stuttered out and tried to maintain eye contact with a distressed Madi, which was not an easy feat. ''Madi, do  _not_ follow my example—''

 _''CLARKE!_  I'm not  _that_ stupid!'' she whined out, and Clarke felt like she was on the cusp of feeling relieved or offended. ''Y-y'can't think so lowly of me!''

Lexa's smirk still toyed her face, as Clarke tried her best not to bury her red face in her hands.  _Oh god, they're never going to let this go._ ''Are you insinuating that Clarke's behaviour was lowly?''

''Well, yeah!''

There was a beat as Madi's eyes landed on her as if she was trying to gauge what made her think that spitting in Lexa's face was a good idea, and if so, how she could help her regain her senses back.

_(Clarke was feeling petty and betrayed back then, okay?!)_

Another beat, as they stared at each other for one long moment. (Technically, it was Madi that did the staring. Clarke was just trying her best to hide the red from her face, and yes, she was embarrassed enough to want to do that, even though they were literally in TOTAL DARKNESS.)

Finally, after a long staring, Madi finally spoke. ''… sorry, Clarke. But it's true! You should  _NEVER_  spit in a Heda's face. D'you  _know_ how many people they've kicked off the balcony for _that_?!''

Beat.

Clarke's voice was tredapious. ''… Lexa, how many people did you kick off the balcony?''

Lexa didn't miss a beat. ''Enough to establish my rule.''

''…''

''…''

''… about seven.''

_''SEVEN PEOPLE SPAT IN YOUR FACE?!''_

Clarke chuckled, as she focused her eyes away in the dark away from a gaping Madi whose expression seemed to be locked in a permanent state of disbelief. ''I didn't know so many people  _hated_ you, Lexa.''

Lexa glared at her, which was enough to shut her up with a grin still on her face. '' _Shoj op,_  Clarke,'' she muttered. ''And not all of it was because of a  _spitting._ I am not that petty.''

She couldn't help it. She couldn't ward the grin off her face. ''… but still some of them were.''

Lexa swallowed a breath to clear her throat, as she straightened her back. ''Well. Perhaps one or two. But to be fair, theirs were accompanied with a veiled threat to my rule, so I could not have let them simply  _go_.''

''So the spit was the last straw, then.'' Clarke mused.

Beat.

Realisation came to Clarke's features. ''… I threatened you though. A lot. When I was being dragged off. I was screaming profanities, yelling for your death—the lot.''

''You did, Clarke.''

Madi's gape was apparent, and her permanent state of disbelief seemed to have become even more permanent. If that was even possible. Almost as if it was etched into her facial features for  _forever._

Clarke quirked an eyebrow. ''Why didn't you kick me off?'' she asked in genuine curiosity, mainly because she did want to know why Lexa didn't just straight up  _murder_ her after,  _especially_ after learning how many had befallen the same fate then, but also said she was  _sorry_  when she tried the spitting plus an additional murder again…?

''Head wanted to. Heart didn't.'' Her lips quirked at the corners of her mouth. ''And I chose right. Couldn't even kick you off even if I wanted to now.''

They were quiet for a moment until Clarke broke into a grin. ''Hey, we can try to make it work. I'll be at that open balcony place near the edge. You'll be up-front and centre. Maybe just a nudge, possibly a slight push or you maybe can run over my toes, and I'll do the rest! O-or—''

Lexa let out a low, exasperated sigh. ''Clarke. Firstly, that was  _not_  what I meant, and secondly, we are  _not_  scaling Polis so I can  _push you off from it.''_

''It was just hypothetical!''

Lexa grunted, as she not-so-subtly glared at the cheeky Wanheda. ''I felt an intention behind it.''

Clarke exhaled and slumped to the back of the truck, apparently defeated. ''… well, okay. But still.''

A sigh exited Lexa's breath. ''No.''

There was silence for a moment. And then, quietly, Madi murmured. ''I would've liked to see that.''

Both adults swivelled towards the Nightblood in horror, as the said Natblida shrugged. ''What? I mean… it woulda been a show.''

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :'D


	43. Meaning of Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conclave talks, desert happenings and mansion things. And possibly something else.

They had been travelling through the Dead Zone. The solar panels reflected the glimmering sun as the truck streaked through the desert, small bursts of sand spurting by the tires, and the ride, ironically, had never felt smoother than before. As if the truck was at home.

One hour into the desert, Madi had asked the first question.

"Can—" Madi said, worried, as her gaze bounced from Clarke to Lexa: "can you talk about the Conclave?"

Lexa was surprised at the question. Usually, Madi had asked questions of the present or the distant past, and the questions of the former were usually aimed at Clarke, to the woman who had once lived in space (and the questions had only piled up, ever since Madi had learned of their people's survival underneath the bunker—and asked questions about Octavia, whom Clarke had told stories of when she spoke of Skaikru, someone whom Madi once thought had died to the radiation since she was not listed as one of the people living in space). There was usually nothing of interest with regards to Lexa's culture or their traditions, save for the Commander's stories—for their traditions Madi knew all too well, especially ones that involved Nightbloods and Fleimkipas.

At Clarke's glare, Lexa turned back to Madi, "When you're older," she finally said, ignoring Clarke's increasingly intense side-glare as she simultaneously drove the truck.

"No!" Madi whined, and then said: "I'm nine, Lexa! I've walked in on you two making out once. I can handle it."

Lexa tried to push down the furious blush colouring her cheeks, as Clarke took a break from her glaring to choke on nonexistent water as she was driving. "Okay, fine," Lexa finally managed to splutter out. "But I will stop if you appear uncomfortable."

She would give her a diluted version of the Conclave, she decided.

It wasn't that Lexa did not want to tell Madi. She would have to, eventually,  _especially_  when it was the first question that surfaced her people's minds whenever she spoke of being Heda— and Madi was no exception. However, there was nothing more than Lexa would like than to  _forget_  about it, especially in a day and time when such fights and Conclaves were held at no value or regard as it once were in their lives anymore.

Furthermore, Conclaves were the fear and honour of Nightbloods, the raw bone which built their blood. And after Madi's experiences, she knew that she would classify herself as the  _former_ —and Lexa certainly didn't blame her.

It was fairly unusual of Madi to ask of such, and Lexa didn't want to pry why. Still waiting for the red on her cheeks to die down, as Clarke "miraculously" found she was unable to simultaneously glare while driving, Lexa took a breath and began.

''The Conclave is an event that was hosted in the case of a Commander's death. Its participants were Nightbloods, who would be trained for the role depending on every Kru's standards. Some would be taken since birth, while others would be in their late teens—''

''— Not that,'' Madi interrupted, as Lexa's eyes flew to Madi's at the disturbance. Then, Madi's eyes flickered away from the road to meet Lexa. ''No… I meant, could you tell me about  _your_ Conclave?''

Silence. As Lexa's eyes flickered away from Madi's, Clarke had suddenly regained the ability to glare while driving. But then, there was a breath and one small nod. ''I will stop if you appear uncomfortable,'' she repeated and closed her eyes. Waited for the memories.

"There were eight contestants. One, Shaben. Two, Yeoh. Three, Vrak. Four, Luna..."

Madi's eyes flew up to meet Lexa's, as if just recognising her words. And then from surprise, it settled into unease.

Lexa cleared her throat and raised an eyebrow at Madi's expression. It was as if by giving her the names to the faces that died in a bloodbath, it was as if she had given the murky faces their souls as well— it had finally sunk into Madi that they  _weren't_  expendable, unlike how Fleimkipas had ingrained it so. "Madi. I don't need to continue, if you don't want to."

Madi seemed lost in the clouds for a moment, before shaking her head. Voice so low that Lexa would've assumed she was talking to herself, she said: "no, no, continue. It's the story that counts."

She still seemed uneasy, Lexa thought, but she continued nevertheless. ''The Conclave was fought in an all-out free for all. Polis was our arena. I can still remember them.'' Hoarse, shallow, was her voice because the memories were all too prominent. ''Shaben was deft. Limited in experience, but quick in combat. Yeoh was smart. Hid while the others clashed outside, and snuck out to finish them with her dagger. Vrack was reckless. Liked to perform dangerous stunts during combat to finish the enemy in order to sufficiently impress the audience, when a simple stab could've done. Led to his unfortunate demise against Tosk, one similarily like him.''

''And for Luna?'' Madi piqued, glancing at Lexa in curiosity.

Lexa was surprised but tried not to let it show. ''... Luna was the champion of the arena. She and her brother trusted each other with their lives, despite being in an arena of death, and thus, they were a fighting force. They actively hunted down possible threats.'' Lexa's lips quirked. ''Like me.''

Madi was bewildered; surprised; horrified, and transfixation was all apparent on Madi's features. ''Did—'' she said quietly, fear and a mixture of awe tinging her voice. ''—did you kill her?''

Lexa blinked—but shook her head. Luna... Luna was an exception.

Madi's eyes flew to meet Lexa's in surprise. And after two, three moments have passed, she was still surprised, but in that was mixed with disbelief and disturbance—almost as if she couldn't believe that Lexa spared someone who threatened to take her life, but then finally settled down with slight relief. That almost made Lexa blink. Relief?

Right. Madi was compassionate to one a many kinds, even murderers of the likes of Luna or Emerson and Lexa herself. Her compassion didn't confine to just Emerson. And in an instance such as the Conclave—even if their existence threatened Lexa's life, perhaps Madi was glad that Lexa wasn't the one that made them meet their fall.

Or perhaps it was something else. Perhaps Madi feared to view Lexa as a killer, a murderer—but wasn't Lexa exactly that? And perhaps a part of herself could share the same sentiment, that wanted nought be burdened by her past.

Lexa blinked at the thought and resumed telling the Conclave. ''However, there was a newly-implemented set of rules _._  A killing quota which increased by day, to speed up the Conclave. If the daily killing quota wasn't met, then there would be...'' she trailed off, slightly troubled at the memory. ''matches. Set up between two assigned pairs whom would prove a spectacle for the audience.''

Madi was quiet. Didn't seem to speak, her eyes focusing on the desert expanse on the front mirror. ''Who were they?'' Madi murmured, still looking onwards in the desert. ''Those in the matches?''

Lexa sighed. Wistfulness touched her expression, as she recalled the days of the Conclave. ''First, it was between Tosk and Shaben. Set up because there only had been one death that day. Tosk was a rampager, one that would mow down all in his path. Shaben was deft, quick. Agile enough to avoid severe injuries or crippling blows.''

''Who won?'' Madi asked quietly. Her gaze reverted from the desert to Lexa.

''Tosk,'' Lexa murmured. ''Broke her neck. Then, I had his slit.''

Madi was silent after that. ''And after?'' she found herself asking.

''Luna and Nus.'' Madi's eyes jolted back to Lexa's face, an unfathomable expression colouring her features. A bitter smile resided on Lexa's lips. ''For there were only two deaths that day. The day she didn't kill me was the day she was set up against her brother.''

Fear shone in Madi's eyes, her arm jabbing into the leather of the seat as she looked up at Lexa. Her next words were a stutter. ''W-who won?'' she said hoarsely like she couldn't believe what she was hearing, as if—if she couldn't believe the Conclave could get worse, sadistic as it was—but the pairing of a fight between a brother and a sister? Unbelievable.

And it was now that Lexa showed Madi a side to it that shed a shaft of light to the dark, vicious, slick soul.

''Luna,'' Lexa said in the slightest. Gazed at Madi with a frown of concern.

Bewildered, blinking twice, Madi sunk back in her seat. Speechless.

Lexa looked at Clarke, but her eyes were focused on the desert, hands on the wheel, lips tight. Returning her own gaze to the desert, she took a loud breath and hoped that what she was doing was right. ''Next, it was... I and her.'' Lexa didn't need to say  _her_  name for Madi to know who it was, for her eyes flickered back to Lexa's, in shell-shocked disbelief.

Taking it as a signal to continue on, Lexa swallowed the bile in her throat and took another breath. ''We were the last ones left in the arena.'' And then, voice steady and yet it shook all the same: ''You know the result.''

Without a word, Madi slumped back into her seat, quiet. Stared onwards into the desert, with an emotion Lexa didn't want to decipher.

The ride was quiet since then.

...

_2 DAYS LATER..._

''We're here,'' Clarke announced, as she got out from the truck. Stretched her limbs, looked on at the mansion before them.

Madi slipped out from the truck. ''Wow,'' she murmured in awe, her gaze fixed on the gigantic mansion amid the irradiated forest, nearly slack-jawed as she tried to comprehend it all.

From the truck, Lexa made an annoyed sound.

Sheepishly, Clarke took the wheelchair from the back of the truck, set it out, clasped the parts into place so it remained rigid, and Lexa moved into it.

''I… whew, Clarke,'' Madi murmured, her eyes still fixated on the mansion, but once she and Lexa approached, she turned her gaze to the both of them, eyes wide. Gestured at the mansion wildly, almost in desperation. ''Look at this place! It's  _gigantic!_ W-why didn't you just  _live_ here?!''

''We would be waiting for our deaths,'' was Lexa's response. And Madi's response to that was a series of slow blinks, complete with a tiny gawk.

Clarke nodded. ''Water, a steady stream of food, and a grass of green. That's what we needed if we wanted to survive. We'd hoped for… somewhere near Polis, at first, and then we found Shallow Valley,'' she said.

Madi's gaze reverted between the two of them, and sounded a small  _okay_ before looking back at the mansion. ''Can we go now?''

…

Since it was late afternoon, they had decided that they would stay in the mansion for the night, and journey to the Laboratory next-morning. Although the Laboratory was nearby, they had decided to settle in and recuperate for the night—after all, it had been three days of journey through the desert, and they did deserve a rest somewhere that wasn't in the truck.

Madi had run through all three stories of the mansion in awe and was travelling around the mansion ever since. Clarke had thought about supervising her but decided that the stress of following Madi as she explored the mansion from left to right was too much strain than was necessary. And so, she focused on unpacking their resources from the truck, as Lexa helped transfer the crates on her lap from place to place.

That had lasted for about twenty minutes until everything they needed was unpacked, and Clarke set out to discover the three floors of the mansion. Although some parts of the mansion were damaged, the place mostly remained relatively intact. And a part of herself wondered what life would be like if they  _did_ manage to carve out someplace to survive here, in the mansion… of course, if there was food or water anywhere nearby, that was.

There were cots to sleep in on in the second floor—however, one could only reach there by stairs. Madi and Clarke had decided to sleep there for the night. They had found a quarter on the first floor, however, presumably for a leader or a captain, which Lexa took.

In preparation for the night, Clarke had lit a few torches and candles. There wasn't any working electricity in the mansion, and if there had been, then it would've been eradicated by the Death Wave either way. She also took out a lamp, and placed it near the pile of their resources, switching it on for the night.

After a period of running through the mansion, Madi had settled down back on the first floor, exhausted. Night fell, and Lexa set out three ration packets—and after they ate, they settled in for the night, too tired to speak or conserve until after a good night's sleep.

…

But a hundred miles away in Shallow Valley, the figure was wide awake.

Traversing through the dirt, its blade dragging a line behind, the figure staggered its way towards the village. Nobody was in sight; the forests had not a crick or a cry—its mudded footsteps were the only sound in the dark, dark night.

Its slow smile was all but evident as it gazed at the abandoned village of Shallow Valley. Blade twirling in hand, a lick of its dry lips, it pushed itself against the bolted door once, twice, until it broke open, yearning as the door groaned a creaking yield.

Gazing over the abode, from the weaponsrack to the mountain of resource, to the notepads and models and rations left behind, a cracked smile appeared on its bloodied face.  _Finally_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought!


	44. Records of the Gone

_MORNING._

They entered the laboratory.

Madi had almost tripped over in excitement as she ran into the laboratory, taking all of it in wonder. Clarke was slightly slower in her stride, an unwarranted smile colouring her face as she saw Madi's reaction, with Lexa quick behind.

''Wait a second.'' Madi looked incredulous, as she surveyed the place from top to bottom and left to right. Then, she glanced back at Clarke and Lexa, like she was trying to make something of them. ''You had a  _secret science_   _lab_ in the middle of a desert-forest and you didn't tell me?!''

Clarke shrugged. Lexa didn't shrug but she took a glance at Clarke, indicating that her reaction was the same. All of which just added the fuel to the fire of Madi's gape.

She almost felt like crying.  _This's almost as worse as the time you didn't tell me you were both Heda and Wanheda._ And then Madi looked around, saw the sheer amount of spare gears and parts and bolts lying around, and reevaluated her evaluation.

_Nevermind. It's worse._

Madi's pained gaze tore from Clarke to meet Lexa's. And when she found the duo smiling, trying to stifle in laughter, she wondered: _When will they ever stop dropping bombs on me?_

Probably never, judging by the way they were both grinning at her as Madi tried her best to keep in the tears. Partially because of the sheer  _massiveness_  and the number of resources there were in this place and partially because they  _never_  thought about telling her about it.

And as Madi sulked and glanced at both the Wanheda and Heda, in the deep recesses of her mind she wished; and in her vision, she envisioned a scenario, when  _she_  was the one grinning instead and  _they_  were the ones gaping at her.

_I wish I had a massive bomb to drop on them._

…

''We'll have Madi sort out the storage.'' Lexa finalised. They were conserving inside of a glass room, as Madi rampaged happily outside. They had arrived a few hours back, after breakfast in the mansion, and was setting roles and general  _what-to-dos_ and instructions for the laboratory. (After all, it was easy to get lost in its spiralling maze.)

''Are you sure that's a good idea?'' Clarke asked uneasily as she met Lexa's gaze. ''I mean… what if she gets bored, tries to explore, and finds  _out_?''

''It wouldn't matter, Clarke,'' Lexa stated. ''One reason we came with her was for her closure. Finding out the truth would be a part in that.''

Clarke threw her hands in the air. ''Letting her see Emerson's  _blood_  and showing her to  _what we did to him_  isn't closure, Lexa! It's torture!''

''It's  _us_ , whether you like it or not,'' Lexa said, stiffly. ''We tortured him to an inch of his life and used him as our lab rat. It is our responsibility to clean up from that.''

If there was any indication that Clarke heard her, it was that she paced around at a quicker speed, as if, with enough force, she could omit the problem from her mind. '' _Responsibility_  doesn't include  _showing Madi_  what we did to him!''

Lexa sighed as her eyes followed Clarke. ''It is the  _same_ as telling her about Polis, Clarke,'' and at this, a low note of frustration came from Clarke's throat. ''There is no difference in the fact that it is  _necessary_ if we choose to hide our pasts no longer.''

''It's not. Polis is fact. This—this we can still  _avoid_.''

''They are both facts in the past, Clarke. That is unchangeable.''

''But we can still  _avoid_ it, can't we?'' she said, and she sounded on the cusp of agitation and frustration. ''There's no reason to show her  _that_ —just  _because!''_

Lexa cleared her throat. ''I did not mean to insinuate that we should show Madi the recordings. I meant that by chance if she  _did_  find out, it wouldn't be as bad as you make it out to be.''

Clarke stared at her, incredulously. ''Showing her a voice-recording of a man  _screaming_  for his life  _isn't a bad thing?_ Really, Lexa.'' she ended it with a deadpan.

''She's growing up.'' Lexa said finally. And when Clarke stopped pacing entirely and stared at her, halfway into being slack-jawed, Lexa sighed once again. ''By the  _Spirits, Clarke,_ she is not that young anymore.''

If anything, Clarke seemed even more surprised. ''She's  _nine,_ Lexa. How is that for young?''

Lexa's next words were cold. ''She understands the Conclave. She realises that the Maunon were not as terrible as we paint them to be. She knows far more than you  _think_ , Clarke. Madi is not nearly as innocent or childlike as you believe her to be.''

Clarke blinked, once, twice, her mouth still open in a gape, and then the next words tumbled out. ''Madi might not be a  _child_  anymore by your standards, but she's still a kid to me.''

Then, when Lexa didn't respond, instead choosing to cast her eyes away from her, Clarke let out a guttural growl in response: ''Lexa, we're not in Polis anymore. We're not bound by your  _rules_. Of forcing your children to mature and grow up—just for what? For the sake of war? For the sake of their  _blood?'' s_ he said, and at the word of  _blood_  it was a spit. ''I don't care what your people think, it's  _us_  now. She's just a kid now—''

''—but she was raised by my people's rules. Clarke, did you expect her to be any less now that she lives with us?'' Lexa's eyes met hers, and she let out a chuckle in disbelief when met with Clarke's riveted stare. ''No, Clarke, she is still Polis's child. Still a Nightblood. Upbringing cannot merely be eradicated— you know that.''

''But they can be overridden,'' Clarke said firmly. ''It's only six years—''

Lexa couldn't keep in her scoff. ''You expect _six years_  of traditions, of our teachings and of our expectations, six years of maturity and six years of  _her life_  changed by two years of us?'' A bitter laugh. ''That's not how it works, Clarke.''

A silence passed through them. And when the only sound that broke the air was Clarke's sigh, and a quiet sentence: ''I—I just don't want her seeing more than she should see, is all.''

_More than she should see. Who are we to decide that?_

Lexa took a breath as well, and with that mustered her words: ''I understand where you come from. But you must know we cannot forever keep our pasts away from Madi. Especially when we have Polis and the bunker to consider. It can't be simply forgotten when it is not gone yet.''

Clarke was quiet. ''I know,'' she finally responded. But when she looked to meet Lexa's eyes, her eyes flared with intensity, with fervour, and there was a difference in her tone. ''But there are some things that should stay buried.''

A flitter away and Lexa released a breath. ''One of us will accompany Madi, while the other sorts out Becca's Laboratory. We can switch shifts every few hours or so. Agreed?''

_Though I disagree with you, Clarke, I do not wish to traumatise Madi any further than she has been already._

Clarke seemed slightly surprised but nodded.

…

''Lexa!'' Madi complained as she looked at the said person sulkily. She dropped down the bag (which was filled with weird, pokey things) on the floor, surprising the Heda slightly, and gazed at Lexa with a pout with her two arms crossed like she wanted her to solve whatever she was complaining about in her mind.

Lexa seemed slightly bewildered, as she looked from the bag to Madi's pout. ''What is it, Madi?'' she finally said, trailing off slightly at Madi's expression, like she didn't know how to exactly comprehend what was happening.

 _What had happened? Was Madi okay? Was she hurt?_ were all thoughts that ran rampant across Lexa's mind, as she looked at the goufa up and down, as if mentally checking over to see if she was okay. She felt an unusual feeling clench her heart, something that felt unusually similarly like the time when she really wanted to execute most of the Azgeda for killing her people, and surged of protectiveness akin to what she felt when she was with those she loved, all of which bundled into a feeling like she wanted to eviscerate whatever… _thing_ that had reduced Madi to this nonfunctioning, instantaneously-saddened mess, added with a feeling to keep her close protectively the same time while destroying whatever machine it was at that.

Lexa blinked. It was an unusual feeling, and definitely not an uncommon one, but this was the first time she had come close to defining it.

''Are you fine?'' she echoed again, looking up and down at Madi with her brow furrowed.  _If anything had happened…_

''When are we getting lunch?'' she asked, still staring at Lexa with the same expression. ''I'm really tired!'' she whined.

_By the Spirits…_

''Soon,'' Lexa said, and released a quiet, somewhat exhausted exhale, and looked back at the sulking child. A mixture of relief and also slight annoyance overcame her, but she let that feeling expel. ''When Clarke comes.''

…

_NIGHT._

Clarke knocked the door to Lexa's quarters, and when Lexa beckoned for her entrance with a quick  _''enter!''_ , Clarke had opened the door.

''I'm sorry,'' Clarke voiced, and at Lexa's beckon, stepped in.

Lexa shook her head, as she met Clarke's eyes. ''Don't be sorry for your opinions, Clarke. There is nothing wrong with disagreements.''

Clarke sighed, her eyes trailing across the room. ''It's… not that. I want to talk about… that recording.''

Lexa's gaze met Clarke's. ''I do not know where it is,'' she replied truthfully. Two hands ready, resting on the wheels. ''Why should it matter now?''

''No, here's the thing—'' Clarke began, staring at Lexa in the eyes. ''—  _that recording_ contains the thirteen trials of Nightblood serum that was used on Emerson. I think— it's in both of our best interests that Madi doesn't find it. Ever.''

 _Burying our sins, are we now?_  Lexa thought but didn't voice. But Clarke must've discerned the message from her expression; for she swallowed a breath, exhaled once, but gazed at Lexa straight in the eyes.

''That has nothing to do with it,'' she stated, but a flicker of doubt remained in her features, but when Lexa blinked again, it was gone. Clarke swallowed. ''We're both acting in the best-interests of Madi. And after everything that's happened to her—being  _kidnapped_  by Emerson, watching her parents  _die_ in front of her—she doesn't deserve to see more trauma.''

Then, a low, small sigh passed, as Clarke gazed at Lexa. ''Lexa—I made a mistake by making it about your people—but it isn't. It isn't a matter of Clans and traditions or where she grew up. It's about  _Madi_  now, and we both care about her. She doesn't need more nightmares.''

Then, finally, Lexa sighed. Nodded, once in the slightest, even as the doubts prickled in her mind—and she reminded herself, (for it had always felt like she had forgotten), that she was raising a  _child_  and not a Commander anymore.

And Clarke's argument, even if she did not fully support it, had its valid points—that they were with Lexa's people no longer, that even though Madi had grown up around them, she should not see more trauma.

''We find the recorder tomorrow,'' Lexa concluded. ''We will search for it in both the laboratory and the mansion. Agreed?''

Clarke nodded. ''Agreed.''

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would love to know what you thought! Do you think Clexa are doing the right thing with the recordings, and if not, which side (Clarke or Lexa) is right and why? 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	45. Ten Minutes Matter

_ONE DAY LATER._

Madi was bored.

No, scratch that. She was slowly and painfully dying from the sheer boredom that was glancing over the stuff from the storage, sorting them out into categories, and leaving them in a pile for Lexa to move into the truck later.

It was tiring enough that she hadn't gotten to go out and stretch her legs ever since she arrived at the laboratory yet. Even if it hadn't been a long while since she managed to go  _out_ , staying in a stuffed laboratory for what was a few hours were a lot less fun than she'd first imagined being in a laboratory would be like. Clarke had supervised her for most of the time, but 20 minutes ago she had said she had to leave, which, okay, was fine by Madi. But Madi was left with 20 minutes of staring at the unsorted storage piles and sulking, which wasn't exactly the definition of  _fun_  in Madi's book.

And to add insult to injury, Clarke and Lexa were probably outside, in the dead-but-still-there forests, probably scavenging and having fun (because, thanks to Praimfaya, which was a weird thing to do because Madi didn't have much of Praimfaya to  _thank_ , the grounds were pretty smooth) and generally doing things that were infinitely more interesting than sorting out stuff into categories. Madi felt miffed at the thought, and her gaze returned to the pile of spare parts that were left by the side of the storage room.

For some reason, there were a lot of them  _everywhere_. Pieces of machinery, wires and gears and metals and sensors, scattered all over the island. She remembered how rare resources had been in Shallow Valley (particularly springs—for some reason, no-one in Louwoda Kiliron Kru  _ever_  used them)—and Becca's Island was practically a heaven compared to Shallow Valley. And just by the thought of it made Madi want to rush out of Becca's Lab this very instant and just go around collecting gears and parts like there was no tomorrow.

Sadly, no such thing could've been possible, not when Clarke and Lexa were in the forests as well—and though Madi didn't doubt her hiding skills, she  _really_  didn't need the ever-distracting thought of accidentally bumping into Clarke and Lexa in the forests while she was on a gleeful hunt for parts and gears. Especially not after what happened the last time.

 _Nah, it's fine,_ the irritating voice which Madi had listened to more than she cared to admit nagged.  _Just sneak out, get deep into the forests where they can't_ ** _ever_** _find or follow you, collect the parts to your heart's content and get back before they even know you're gone. Doesn't that sound good?_

 _Yes it does,_ Madi thought, mournfully as she gazed longingly at the parts in the corner.  _Too good to be true._

_Aw, come on, Madi. Just give yourself ten minutes. It'll be more than enough time to gather what you need._

''… okay then,'' Madi muttered, getting up from the floor. ''I-I guess ten minutes isn't  _that_ bad…''

…

 _Notebook -_ 777 days since Praimfaya

_(Translated from Trigedasleng)_

_THERE WERE SO MANY RESOURCES._

_AT FIRST, AFTER SEEING THE AMOUNT OF GEARS AND BOLTS, I DIDN'T THINK IT COULD GET BETTER. BUT THEN I SAW SENSORS AND BATTERIES AND SPRINGS AND BLINKERS AND I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!_

_WHY DON'T WE HAVE THIS AT SHALLOW VALLEY?!_

_THIS ISLAND IS AMAZING AND I LOVE IT._

_I DON'T REGRET THIS AT ALL._

…

After placing down the notebook by her side, her gaze returned to the spare parts she'd managed to collect. There was  _a lot,_ all types of bolts and gears and springs at all sizes, and Madi had gone from rushing through the forests, picking up everything and anything she could to hand-picking each and every sensor and battery, making sure they were at the highest quality, before returning to the Lab with an armful of them.

Thankfully, she had managed to avoid Clarke and Lexa throughout her impromptu journey into the woods. Sure, she might've overheard them or seen them, once or twice, but the good thing was that Becca's Island retained a certain amount of trees (though dead) were able to provide ample concealment.

However, as it turned out, playing with the gears and tinkering with them wasn't exactly half as fun as it was supposed to be. Sadly, the thing about hand-picking only the best and  _the best only_ was that Madi had gotten a little carried away in her scavenging, especially when encountering parts that usually weren't available in Shallow Valley, such as the sensors or the light-blinkers. And so she had taken  _a lot_  of those, which had seemed like a good idea in the first place, but less of a good idea when she came back and realised that she didn't actually have any  _connecting_  parts to construct something that involved the aforementioned sensors and light-blinkers.

And so, Madi's eyes flickered from the gears in her hand to the actual laboratory part of the lab. Clarke wasn't in there, and neither was Lexa for the matter. For some reason, they didn't let her in there, which, fine, sounded okay for the first day or so, but afterwards it was getting tiring to just look at it and know that there was something in there other than endless rows and rows of storage that  _she_  was supposed to sort out. And so, with a longing look at the lab, she placed the sensors down and edged her way towards it.

There was nothing unusual about the lab, at least not from a first glance. Squeaky-clean, not a spot of dust in presence, and a whole lot of gibberish science papers that she had frowned at when she tried to read them.

She traversed further into the lab, glancing over the neatly-laid papers and clean tables—at first. And then, when she approached near the counter lining on the walls in the room, and her eyes travelled from the hospital bed and landed on the metal table—

 _Oh Spirits,_ she thought, as her fingers traced over the black and red blood mixed, stained on the table, a shade of dark crimson. She was horrified, but the transfixation from the blood that held her gaze, for perhaps a moment too long, had lingered. She swept her eyes away, landed her gaze unto something else, tried not to think of the dried blood on the tables and the numbness in her fingers, but they always returned.

And then, there was something inside the wedges of the two tables. A black device, somewhat like a radio, but there was no antenna, that was jammed between the wood, wedged in. It took her a few tries, but she wedged it out, studying the device.

Madi had flicked the cogs, jabbed her fingers into the buttons, not really expecting it to work. But to her surprise, it crackled into life. And in Trigedasleng, amid the static, she heard a familiar voice, distorted by a robotic tone choke out:

_''—F-forty degrees. She is conscious, but barely. The-the equipment a-and the radiation medicine is the only thing keeping her alive. One-one day has passed since Praimfaya—s-she is dying as the others had. If I shall die, and they find our corpses, t-then this is how it ended.''_

Wait.  _What was_   _Lexa talking about?_ Madi blinked, somewhat baffled, and turned the cog next.

 _''—two days. R-rose by three degrees—convulsions are setting in. B-brain damage w-would be next, if-if it hasn't set in already. Still conscious, in excruciation. Med-medicine's gone. This-this will not last. S-she's dying—_ bzzt _—need-an-alternative—''_

Although Madi understood the words, she still didn't get it.  _What was happening?_ Clarke—Clarke was sick, that was obvious, but what made it severe enough that she was  _dying?_ And she flicked it once again, and—

_''—s-she tells me to use the serum. B-but it isn't safe. Not y-yet. Clarke—Clarke could die, and I-I'm not willing to risk it—''_

Madi didn't know what to think. There was too much information in the recordings for Madi to focus on anything specific, her mind glazing over the details.  _Lexa, using apostrophes?_   _Clarke, dying? A… serum, of some sort?_

She pushed the cog once more. And the recorder buzzed, and she heard—

_''—There's a man clad in white. Banging on the steel doors, yelling for entrance. Red blood stains the window of his helmet—he does not have long left. I-I should leave him behind…''_

Madi stifled a gasp, nearly dropped the voice recorder once she realised who it was.  _''— b-but w-we can use him…''_

_shit shit SHIT emerson SHIT!_

And when Madi turned the cog again, frantically, to find what had happened to  _him_ , she heard Lexa's voice once again; but it was distant, and not because of the static. Cold, impassive, devoid of hope—nothing of the fear that coloured her words when she spoke of Clarke, nothing that indicated that she cared—it scared Madi how  _different_  she sounded.

_''—First trial. Subject is tied to metal table. Removed applicable gear. Currently screaming profanities and smouldering with radioactivity. Covered with red, carbuncle blisters over his skin; two times of mine and at a similar severity to Clarke's; check later. First injection—''_

There was nothing, not even the sound of swearing; and then there was a twisted scream.

_''—Second test—''_

_''— no visible change. Next injection—''_

And another.

_''— spurts crimson blood, tinged with black. Next—''_

And another still. The recordings ran. And Madi listened on, and as much as he screamed and begged, she couldn't turn away.

…

_''—T-three days since I began the tests. He screams, loud and hard, and fights. It's—it's is well, then, that Clarke is unconscious now. It—It is torturous. B-but he-he dies for our survival, and that is enough.''_

There was a stop. And then—

_''That—that is enough.''_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm kinda out of my home turf right now, and though this chapter was mostly done I couldn't add more words+scenes, so I'm sorry this chapter's significantly shorter! 
> 
> About the chapter itself... can't say much but I'm sorry. :D Trust me, I didn't want to do it either ~~that's a lie~~ but yell at me in the comments lol. Let me know what you thought, and how this's gonna turn out!


	46. What We Would Do To Survive

Madi had entered her quarters at ten, blanket dragging behind her while she sniffled.

Lexa had been surprised, mainly because Madi was supposed to be in her cot upstairs asleep by nine, and partially because the rims of Madi's eyes were coloured red—as if she had only finished crying. Concern had filled her heart; and so, she asked whether if Madi wanted to sleep beside her for the night.

Madi had nodded, once, and stumbled towards her, blanket in hand, as she said something about  _sharing_  and a few incoherent mumbles about  _wanting to hear a story._ Lexa had beckoned Madi to sit beside her, who shuffled in with a blanket, and the Spirit in Lexa's head directed her to a story—of Quera the Healer, who had become a Commander through their skills alone.

She had told Quera's story for the night, and Madi had listened intently—until she had finally fallen asleep, snoring softly beside her, blanket wrapped around her body.

It wasn't long until Lexa fell asleep, as well.

…

When she woke up at 1:00 am, Madi was not in her bed.

At first, Lexa wondered if Madi had returned upstairs to sleep with Clarke. But when she noticed that Madi's blanket was still sprawled on her bed, doubts and dread began to creep in her heart. She grasped at the linen and moved towards the backboard of her bed, and slowly transferred herself over into her wheelchair. Took her gloves by her bed and put them on.

She was preparing for the worst, she knew, but if anything— _the worst_ seemed to be Madi's go-to. And especially after she learned about their tests on Emerson's, Lexa wouldn't entirely blame her, either.

She would blame herself.

Wheeling through the hallways, she came into the mansion's main complex. And then she stared up at the steps that travelled to the second floor and thought about Clarke.

_Nothing you can do about that now._

Biting her lip, consciously feeling the wheels under her palms, she turned away from the staircase to the outside. And it had seemed that her suspicions were right—for where the two main doors were supposed to be closed, yearned two wide-open doors, slow in the wind.

Lexa gritted her teeth and sped up, moving through the two large doors as they were toyed by the wind. And as she stared at the ground, she realised that there were a set of tracks. Footprints.

 _Spirits, Madi,_ Lexa thought. Her eyes focused on the vehicle outside—the truck, and she wheeled, as quickly as she could towards it. And when she was at her destination, she transferred herself from the chair into the truck, and with a lot of strain, forced the chair inside as well—and tried not to think about how everything could go wrong.

Quickly, she tied a knot onto the rock and made a simple lashing. Finally, with one end of the rope in her hand, the rock secure from the next end, she placed it by her side, a generous length bound to her palm.

 _Hopefully the time you've spent staring at Clarke while she drove paid off, Lexa,_ she thought to herself.  _What was the first step?_  She gazed at the panels of buttons and blinking lights until she finally plugged in the ignition.  _That was what Clarke did, right?_

She felt a bit doubtful, but nevertheless, put her hands on the wheel. Then, she moved the bound rock on the pedal on the floor of the truck. It took a few moments—but then, the truck spluttered into life.

She used the wheel and drove, for what felt like miles abound, drove for eternity following the footprints that the Nightblood had left behind. And whenever the footprints had faltered; delved into an undergrowth too thick she could not follow, she had gritted her teeth and drove on, hoping to find a reappearance of the tracks.

But thankfully, the tracks had always reappeared, after a period of time taking a roundabout route rather than a shortcut. Just by the  _frequency_  of tracks, Madi had left behind, Lexa had suspected it was intentional—that she didn't care if she was found, for Madi was usually too careful, too crafty to leave such obvious indicators as to her location.

And until what felt like forever, the truck's lights finally shone on a figure, seated in front of a tree. Madi didn't look up at the lights, and Lexa could see Madi's features clearly. She had been crying; her cheeks were tinged with red. Quiet, stifling sobs had wracked her tiny frame, and Lexa drove closer, until:

'' _Don't_.'' A sound so hoarse, nearly inaudible, but Lexa caught it anyway. And then, the pieces clinked in her mind, and she realised why Madi had been so obvious in her tracks, didn't seem to care for where she went, didn't bother to hide or go somewhere that she would never possibly find.

''S-stay away,'' Madi mumbled, and Lexa's heart panged a beat. ''Don't-don't come any closer.'' The answer to what would happen if she  _did_  hung unmistakably in the air. Lexa took a slow, inaudible sigh, eyes looking through the window, on the ground that separated her and Madi, and she wondered how many traps had Madi fit in the three meters between her and the truck.

''I—I get it,'' Madi said and heaved what sounded like a sob. ''Y-you ha-had to save Clarke. I-I get it. B-but you didn't n-need to tor-torture him an-and throw him out— 'ta die,'' she mumbled as she hunched over, knees drawn to her body as she hitched loud, slow breaths. Her head buried in her arms like she couldn't meet Lexa's eyes.

And so, Lexa sighed, and said the excuse that ran her mind a thousand times over whenever there was something she had to justify: ''We did what we had to survive.''

Madi was still hunched over, but her next words were clearer than it ever was before. ''But could it be better? Couldn't—couldn't our world be something that isn't about survival? Something t-that's more than protectin' families or love or fightin' cause… 'cause you didn't have a choice?'' And she took a breath, and Lexa couldn't look at Madi in the eyes anymore, as she coughed out through her tears, ''—Can't there be somethin' out there that unites us s-so we don't  _need_ to  _just_  survive anymore? Somethin' that makes us a c-collective whole? Without havin' to look behind our backs 'cause everyone's lookin' out for each other?'' And desperately, ever so desperately, she asked but Lexa heard a plead: ''Can't survival ever  _not_ be our main worry?''

Lexa wasn't naive.

Madi wished for a world where the people were united for the betterment of them all. And although Lexa would admit, she wished for it as well— and if she had a case, the Coalition would be her testament— but she knew it would not become fruition until, at least, a few millennia have passed since her people adopted a better way.

But there were definitely inklings of it, once, the vain promise of a collective whole. She had the Maunon burn Tondc, because then it was the Maunon that united them all, rallied them against a larger evil, where there was no need for petty fights or strife when the impending danger of  _death_  was too large a cause to forget. They had been invincible then—they all were. For they were fighting for a greater good, a grander cause that was something  _more_.

However, Madi's ideas, though longing, were contradictory. It was her people's basic, animal instinct of survival that united them against the Maunon, the larger evil that plagued them all. It was the worry for their survival that made them invincible, a flurried war cry that gave them their strength, a roar for the fallen that united them more. And if Lexa had to make the decision of Tondc again, she would do it, even a hundred times over. For the need of revenge motivated the need for strength, and with unison came their strength.

And even if it killed her to do so every time, she was making the choice of a Commander.

She was not naive, but she needed to be so, for Madi's sake. And so she lied. ''It could,'' she echoed, with as much conviction as she could. ''It could be.''

And that was when Madi got up from the tree, brushed the sand from her clothes, and stumbled towards Lexa and her truck. Taking her by the arm, in their people's traditional symbol of trust, and climbed back into the truck.

Lexa tried not to think about it as she drove away into the dawn, for fear of feeling worse than she already was.

…

_MORNING._

Lexa nor Madi had talked about the incident last night, and Lexa suspected that they wouldn't be talking about it anytime soon in the near future, and for good reason.

Clarke did not know about their leave and had been particularly chipper in the morning. And when she was met with both Lexa and Madi's solemn glances, she had been curious, of course, but after a questioning which resulted in both Nightblood's denials  _(''You okay? You're not looking too well—'' refuted by a simultaneous: ''—We're fine.''),_ she had let it go.

And for all the better, for they did not need to share with one more person. Especially when Clarke was the one who advocated the most for the voice recorder's destroyal in the first place, insisting that Madi may accidentally find it. She did not need to know how true that statement had become.

They had decided to leave the next morning. After all, it had been a long few days at Becca's Island, and although Lexa wouldn't admit it, she was glad that it was over. Despite the number of resources that they managed to garner from the Island, none of them would be worth the memories this place had evoked.

''Anything you want, Madi?'' Clarke asked as she bit into her rations happily. Still unaware of the events that had transpired last night. ''I figured, what with it being the last day and all—why don't we go out scavenging?''

The last word hung over the two parties like a ghost, but Clarke didn't notice that. Madi's eyes had flickered away, staring at the floor—and at the notice of  _that,_ Clarke's eyes had flickered towards Lexa's in question—and if she couldn't feel worse than she was already, she did.

''I-I'm fine,'' Madi finally responded, voice small. And Clarke had glanced at Lexa for an answer; but she had merely shrugged, despite the pain that was gnawing in her heart.

Clarke frowned. ''Not even parts? You know, Madi, there are a lot around the Island.''

''I-I'm fine,'' Madi repeated again louder, rushed and in a stutter. And Lexa had to shrug again to appease a still-frowning Clarke, and thankfully, she had caught the cue and pressed her emotions back into impassivity, finally returning to a smile as she gazed into Madi's eyes.

''Alright, then,'' Clarke said, almost overly-cheerily as she put away the remains of the packet into her pocket. ''I'll be outside if you need me. Offer's on the table until the end of the day if you happen to change your mind, Madi.''

And with that, she had left for the exit, to the truck outside—presumably to set up the solar panels to soak in the sunlight for the day.

Lexa had sighed, softly, after Clarke was well out of range, and returned her gaze to Madi. A gaze that Madi didn't meet. ''Madi. I would never say this as Heda, but I am Heda no longer. For what it is worth— I am sorry for what we had done to Emerson.''

Quietly, Madi's eyes flickered from the floor, to meet Lexa's eyes. ''I don't-I don't hate you for it. If-If that's what you were wonderin'. I-I understand. Y-you did what you had to do. To  _survive_.'' Madi said, placing the emphasis on the word.

''But we could do better,'' Lexa said, voice wistful—and she found that she wasn't lying anymore. ''Even if it were what we had to do to survive—we should have done better.''  _As humans._

Madi didn't reply to that, but her eyes were glinting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think about their conversation? Was Lexa right about survival or Madi about the world being better? Let me know what you thought!


	47. Last Days

The truck ploughed through the sands like it was nothing, as they sped across the barren waste, back to where their home was.

The trip was quiet on the way back. But it wasn't a content-type of quiet; rather, it was slightly more solemn. No places were pointed out—not even Tondc, which Madi had so wanted to see, and there wasn't so much of a glance at the Mountain Men's base when they drove past. No words were exchanged—save for those that were necessary. No stories were said—and when they were, it was formal ones, not those that were funny or made Madi giddy anymore.

No songs were hummed.

…

Clarke had managed to salvage a few radios from Becca's Laboratory—and unfortunately, after turning them on, none of them had worked, which left her a bit miffed and annoyed.

Perhaps  _considerably_ miffed would be the better word. It had made her especially annoyed during the midst of a desert, seeing that one of the sole reasons she came here  _was_ for the radio parts which would, hopefully, let her reconnect with Bellamy and the rest in space.

Poking the parts didn't work. Neither did deliberately ignoring them and hoping that they'd magically mend themselves, for the matter. But Clarke learned a lesson on unscrewing damaged radios and taking them apart—which was to never do it again because fuck if those parts just  _had_ to conveniently get lost in the mass pile of springs and pieces that were stacked in the back of the truck.

However, something caught her eye at the back of the truck. Narrowing her eyes, she neared towards the box—and opening it, she was met with a dazzle of blinkers and springs and knobs and bolts and gears, all mostly-new and whole, as she blinked, trying to comprehend it all.

But then, she felt a smirk worm itself into her features. Of course.  _Madi._

Biting back a slight sigh in part-exasperation, part-happiness, she rummaged through the parts in the box with her hands, and gathering them up, tried to take in it all—

''I think I might be able to reconnect these…'' Clarke murmured to nobody in particular, as she glanced at the radios that she'd ditched to the side in annoyance to the parts that were in her hands. ''Won't hurt if I try…''

…

_Notebook._

_(Translated from Trigedasleng.)_

_Lexa talked to me about it. After I found out everything she did to Carl to save Clarke. I said a load of things and everything's really just a jumble because I don't even know what to_ **_feel_ ** _. She says it's what's necessary if we want to survive but then she also said something about a world that could be better. Where we won't have to care about being Maunon or Grounder or whatever anymore because we're all united. As one. She said it could be true and—and I want it to be true. Because I don't want anyone more to die anymore just cause they're not us like how Carl did._

_Journey's really quiet. I got lots of time to think. Sometimes Clarke tries to talk to me and every time I just feel really bad and there's this sinking feeling in my gut so usually I just write back here in this notebook 'cause it's easier avoiding eye contact and being busy writing this than talking to her._

_Lexa doesn't try to talk to me. And though I feel kind of mean for saying it, I think I'm okay with it. Cause I need some time especially after what she's said. After learning what she's_ **_done_ ** _._

_Put the parts I've found in the truck, in a box to the side. Cause even if they won't work with each other it doesn't mean that they're useless. And I can break them up into smaller pieces and make it work somehow if I get bored of them. Or get angry._

_Got dreams with sister in it. It was like she was alive. We were spear-fishing again but this time Nomon and Nontu and Bro were there too. We were in a competition and they were cheering me on. Ai sis was teasing me but after it was all over and I—get this—speared more fish than her!— she had looked at me really proudly and ruffled my hair but weirdly I'd smiled but not scowled like I woulda done usually._

_And thinking about it makes me miss her more than ever. Especially now._

_Don't really know why I'm writing this stuff because it's just stuff. Feel a bit better dumping it all down though._

…

''Lexa…?''

''What is it, Clarke?''

Clarke's voice dropped low into a whisper, as her eyes glimmered with excitement. ''Don't tell Madi yet—but I think I've found a way to make the radios work.''

 _Is that so, Clarke?_ was what Lexa wanted to say, but instead, she raised an eyebrow at Clarke's remark about Madi. ''And why not?''

Clarke grinned. ''Want it to be a surprise. But here—'' and she pressed the radio in Lexa's hands, closed her fingers around it.

Lexa studied the device, almost awkwardly feeling it over, as Clarke grinned like she'd saved a dozen lives and rambled on. ''It's not working  _now_ because it's missing an antenna, but after I find one and reattach it—I'm quite sure it'll work.''

''Then we will be able to talk with those in space?''

Clarke's smile was rueful as it was infectious. ''Hopefully. But by the looks of it—we'll be able to connect with them by the end of the week.''

…

The truck screeched to a stop in the front door of the abode.

Clarke let out a loud breath and rested her hands on the truck wheel. They were  _finally_  here. It had been a long journey; and one especially lengthened, with the quiet that plagued the truck the past few days. Clarke didn't realise how much of a difference silence made, until after a few days the journey had felt so impossibly long, despite how quickly it had seemed to go by during their arrival.

Breathed in again; exhaled. That didn't matter now. They were  _here_ , and that was all that she was going to think about now. So she took a breath, and removing her hands from the wheel, opened the truck door.

And her heart was filled with dread.

The abode door swung wide open.

 _I must've forgotten to close it,_ was the thought that repeated in her mind, but even then she knew it wasn't true. She was careful, and when they had six pairs of eyes to watch over everything, she knew that they wouldn't forget.

She tried to keep it off her mind, as Madi slipped out of the truck and she took Lexa's wheelchair from the back of the truck and set it out. And once Lexa had transferred, Clarke had looked, disturbed, at the abode's wide open door.

Her heart felt like ice.

Madi didn't seem notice her expression, however, because she had bounded towards the abode without a look tossed backwards. She had made it halfway to the door as ice jabbed her heart until Clarke couldn't take the cold anymore, and from her mouth slipped out an involuntary: '' _No!''_

And when Madi paused, blinking and confused, Clarke had edged towards the abode, her hand on her knife's hilt, as she—slowly but steadily—entered through the door.

And the cold in her heart froze over; felt as ornate and solid as her metal blade. She blinked; almost rubbed her eyes, for she couldn't be seeing right.

For nothing stared back at her.

 _Everything_ , from the drawers to the windows, yearned wide-open. Everything, from the counters to the tables, was scrubbed clean, from their bags to their  _rations_  to their  _resources_. There was nothing because everything was gone.

''Shit!'' Clarke cursed as she rummaged through the drawers.  _Nothing_. Not even the candles or their notepads or—

There was nothing but the bare quiet. Clarke gazed around the room, despairingly, as if to find  _some_  presence of  _something_ , but there was only Madi's agitation that met her back—and Lexa's face, streaked emotionless, as her gaze flittered around the room.

When Clarke spoke again, her voice was barely audible. ''It's all gone. There's nothing left. Something— _someone_  took it all.''

…

_Twenty packets. Five worn bottles. Four blunted swords. Three toned daggers. Two jagged spears. Two loaded guns. One backpack._

Her gaze flittered away from the haul of resource, turned outside to the vista that met her eyes a dozen miles below, and on her lips played a smile, as she slid her legs to dangle at the cliff's edge. Enough. It would be enough.

Twenty days to starve them. Divide the rations by two and it would be forty. Weapons gone, gear lost, mechanisms buried— there was a whimsical chance for their survival, and even if they  _didn't_ , they'd be withered enough for a quick finish with ease.

Forty more days. Forty more days—so she lives, so they die. Perhaps it was not for the best, but it would be enough.

Luna smiled, looking over her empire. An expanse of lush green trees, surrounded by a cliff's edge, and a shodden village to match. Her vision travelled, from the spots of green among a blanket of orange-red to meet the dusking skyline, and she felt a smile warm her face as she pulled out a bottle, and drank.

All of it was hers.

**END YEAR THREE / PART I.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the Last's identity is revealed! Would love to know what you think about it and how you think it'll all turn out. :) This chapter's a little shorter - due to the fact that I had to split some scenes up - my apologies!
> 
> and on an unrelated note: daenerys targaryen's rap's stuck in my head and i want to die send help


	48. Hopes and Berries

**YEAR THREE / PART II.**

The next few days had been harsh on them.

They had hunted like they couldn't hunt enough, worked harder than they ever had before, and even then the woodlands seemed devoid, seemed blank with nothing. And in the rare instance when they caught food, even then it had to be split into threes, and then into sixes—for what if there was no food for tomorrow?

Everything was nothing. They had everything from Becca's Lab—gears, machinery, books and resources—but there was nothing that they could nourish themselves with.

They didn't bother with the radios. Not when they couldn't even live on their own to care about them.

Even the weaponry didn't matter so much the fact that their  _rations_ were lost. From the packets to the berries and herbs they've scavenged during their hunt were all taken, all gone.

And save for some extra emergency rations they had taken for their trip to Becca's Lab, they had nothing saved in their stores—because something,  _someone_  had taken it all, raided them blank with nothing, left them to die.

It was then when they looked on the prospect of another survivor with such hate. Because how could they take  _everything,_ when they were all the only ones left in the apocalypse, looking to survive?

And half of Clarke berated herself for it. The marks of another survivor, the  _shadows_ , the fleeting presence were  _all_   _there_. And yet she chose to ignore it—in favour of ignorance, in favour of an easier life that was without another force working at bay. She pushed away from the evidence; pushed away Madi's words as nonsense, told herself it was just a result of Madi's trauma and her encounter with Emerson. Even when, looking back, it was so glaringly obvious that it  _wasn't._

And now she was facing the consequences of it. Everything  _was stolen_ , from rations to the resource to even Lexa's goddamn candles, and even though her mind was screaming some choice words at the  _survivor_ , in her heart, as appalling as it were, Clarke couldn't blame them. Not entirely, for it was true, for all they were doing was looking to survive. And if there were two selves—one for survival, one that was  _them_ —and they themselves knew better than anyone what they would do to survive—how could they really blame them?

She couldn't think that now, though. Not when her mind was supposed to be fixated on survival and not when she wasn't supposed to be  _sympathising_  with the survivor, goddamnit. And Clarke stifled a disbelieving laugh because the  _last_ time there was a survivor, she had killed him without remorse. Didn't flinch, but thought of  _their_  survival—didn't even think much about it after that. But now she was practically telling herself that she understood  _why_ a survivor did what they did— the same survivor that basically left them for dead.

(She'd probably have to thank Madi for that.)

They were on limited rations. Every day had been a fight, and surviving had never been harsher, had never been more  _evident_ now more than ever.

They had to split rations. Had to find food at hours on end. Had no time for recreation, no time to even talk to each other, for the energy spent was far more than what it was worth. And so they hunted and scavenged and  _tried_  to bring what little they could to support all of them because even little was better than nothing.

(And every little counted, now more than ever.)

Out of the three of them, Madi had been the most distressed. And Clarke suspected that it was because she sensed that  _they_  were distressed that she was, and thus in response Madi had worked hard to hunt, to fish and to scavenge and to find food for them, to the point where Lexa had to tell her to stop, to stop her from overexerting herself to the point past exhaustion.

(And another part of Clarke had thought that perhaps it was because out of the three of them  _Madi_  had insisted on the presence of another, that there was another survivor who was pulling the strings from there, that she felt like it was  _her_  fault that the abode showed up raided and stolen,  _her_  fault that she didn't manage to convince her and Lexa of another's presence. That had made Clarke guiltier than she already felt.)

There was never enough, though. Sometimes they went through meals starving. Other times, there was nothing to eat, and even if there were a few spare rations at their abode they had to hold off from it, for what if the next day was worse? And so they were forced to hunt and to scavenge, and food had never seemed more scarce than then. But there was a hope coming for them.

Their farm.

It was nearly the ripe season for their berries, and so the water they had they fed into the dirt, the time they had whenever they weren't hunting they tended, as they stared hungrily on, waiting for the fruit to ripen. It was only then when they could get on with some means of sustenance, and perhaps manage to restart in building up their stores, without needing to hunt every day out.

At least, that was their hope. And Clarke hoped—prayed even—that there wouldn't be any apocalypses or freak accidents until then because this was their family, and subsequently  _their survival_ that they were talking about. And their survival wasn't to be messed with.

…

_Entry — 785 days since Praimfaya_

_OH SPIRITS, BERRIES HAVE NEVER TASTED BETTER._

_I LOVE 'EM! CLARKE AND LEXA AND I WENT ON A PICKING SPREE YESTERDAY WHEN THEY WERE ALL RIPE! AND WE HAD THEM SET OUT AND WE WASHED THEM AND DEVOURED IT ALL AT ONCE! IT WAS KINDA DRY AND A BIT SANDY, BUT IT TASTED AWESOME WHEN EATEN IN BUNCHES!_

_THANK THE SPIRITS AND THE HEDAS AND EVERYONE ABOVE. WE DID IT! WE'RE GONNA HAVE FOOD THAT LASTS AN' WE DON'T HAVE TO HUNT SO EXHAUSTINGLY!_

_I LOVE BERRIES!_

…

_5 DAYS LATER…_

''There's nothing in the forests, Clarke,'' Madi mumbled as she trekked on. Despite her complaints, neither of her kinda-surrogate parents had indicated to have heard her, and if anything waded/wheeled further into the forests.

There was  _nothing_. They had found dead mutated animal corpses, of course—but by the time they got there, half of its carcasses would've been fed on by the mosquitoes (which, though Madi and Lexa insisted was still edible, Clarke was unwilling to take the risk of eating it and catching some disease, which wasn't that great of a reason in Madi's opinion, but whatever. It was really annoying trying to move the carcasses anyway with the mosquitoes and all, and generally the corpses were rotten to the core), and the other half would be unrecognisable, scorched so hard by the heat that it seemed like it was left smoking overnight on an oversized pyre, which was a bad idea unless you wanted to eat black tan for breakfast.

And with it being summer and all, at gargantuan heights of scorching temperatures, evidently everything would've been doubled worse. So in Madi's opinion, their mission in trying to hunt down food was kinda futile. Especially with there being berries available and all. Why wouldn't they rather spend some time eating some  _berries_ than, ya know, hunting out in a forty-five-degree heat?!

Stifling a sigh, Madi marched on as she surveyed the forests, not really expecting anything. But suddenly, out of the corner of her eyes, she saw a shadow pass among the trees.

Her eyes widened.  _Was she seeing right?_ But then she looked again—and there it was, distinctly, a flash of a brown-pelt.

_Oh Spirits. I think it's a bear!_

Madi pulled on Clarke's sleeve in excitement and gestured wildly at the figure in the forests, not daring to make a single sound. Surely enough, it was there. Another rustle, and it was gone.

Clarke slowly drew out her sword, but Lexa touched Clarke's sword-hand to stop her. Staring at her questioningly, Lexa shook her head. Mouthed the words:  _too loud._

Clarke nodded, and slowly returned her blade to her side, still in an offence. Madi's gaze switched from Clarke's to Lexa's, almost in a question, as she gripped the spear in her hand. Madi thought about her training; thought about her throwing the spear and having it land its mark. Thought of the hours she'd spent, thought of her grip and her posture and the release. She took a breath, opened her eyes, and saw the creature dash among the trees, leaving but a rustle.

_One shot, Madi. You have one shot. That's it._

Clarke and Lexa's eyes were both on her. Madi breathed in one quick breath and gripped her spear. Watched as the creature rounded about the forests, listened to its motion as it darted through the grass. Felt the spear, light in her hand; her foot out, as she stood her ground, positioned herself for a shot. Saw the flash of brown, a few meters away from where she aimed.

She threw. And—

''I think I caught it!'' Madi yelped in excitement, as there was an audible  _thump_ and the shadow fell to the ground. Clarke jogged up to where the creature had fallen, with Lexa following closely behind, as Madi followed them both eagerly…

But when they caught up to where it fell, it was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought!


	49. —They Always Come Back

''And now we have disappearing bears. Really, now?'' Clarke sighed, as she paced around the abode.

After the sudden loss of their prey, they had decided to call it a day and return to the abode. Which, by all means, should've been a source for Madi's happiness—after all, she did spend most of the hunt complaining, generally because spending time inside the abode was a  _LOT_  better than being scorched red by the sun and being virtually burned alive—but she had felt disappointed, instead. This was supposed to be her big hunt.  _This_ was supposed to be her first and only win and her victory at impressing Clarke and Lexa with her hunting skills! But nope, not only did the bear disappear, but her favourite  _spear_ had disappeared as well.

All in one, Madi felt very glum about it. Clarke expressed her feelings very well on that topic. ''I-I can't believe it,'' Clarke muttered. ''It must be around that area. It can't just disappear…''

Oh, they  _ALL_  agreed that a bear couldn't just simply  _disappear._ But they had searched around the area for fifteen minutes and counting—and obviously, it wasn't there. Which was why they were all fed up in the first place.

Madi breathed in loudly and suppressed an irritated sigh. Somehow,  _somehow,_ even if the bear had survived their strike, it had managed to evade the three of them too as they scoured for the corpse. Which simply wasn't possible. What did the bear think it was? It wasn't the Heda, or the Wanheda, or Madi. So  _WHY_  did it just pull off a vanishing act like it was nothing?!

''Apparently, bears possess a trait, adapted for survivability,'' Lexa had said sarcastically, which had upset Madi even more. ''Vanishing in thin air.''

Huffing, Madi had sat down on one of the chairs and propped her head up on her hands. It was as if the bear had some tactical training of some kind. She wondered what it would be. Maybe  _sneaking-out-of-there_  training or  _evading-strikes_  training or  _fight and flight_ training as the cherry on the top. And above it all, the very important  _disappearance_ training that could have you vanish on a whim. Which Madi was pretty sure all combined together to form that bear because there was simply  _no way_ it could've disapparated into thin air like it was  _nothing_.

All of them were as disappointed as Madi, if not more. Clarke was visibly upset as she paced around the abode. Lexa was quiet, but Madi was about halfway sure that she was annoyed on the inside too, if the sarcasm wasn't a testament to anything (''Mockery isn't the product of a strong mind, Lexa.'' Clarke had muttered to that in response. ''Do not mock a battle we both fight.'' was Lexa's reply.). And Madi herself wasn't going to rein in her anger & sadness at that  _loss._

They could've been feasting on meat by now. But too bad the bear just  _had_ to escape, and with Madi's spear as well! It could've at least left  _that_ behind as consolation, but nope. Madi's favourite spear was now forever gone, lost in a void that never was.

She felt distressed form at the thought. But then, she heard Lexa clear her throat, and say—

''Madi. Would you like to pick berries?''

And suddenly, Madi felt a lot better.

…

She could only see blurs.

In and out, like a magnifying glass that adjusted out-of-control. Her ears rung with blood; her mouth shaking at the edges; her face in a grimace as she tried to keep her heart-rate under control. Pain shrilled down her fingers and jostled up her spine, but she pressed her hand into the wound still, even as lighting struck through her head and her limbs threatened to give out.

_Can't. Can't go now. Not when—not when I've come so far._

She could only feel pain. Pain that poured from a jagged wound that poured from a black hole, pain that descended like a bolt and pulsed where the gaping wound was as if there was some bastard heart in there that pumped the slick black out.

_Not when I need to live._

A wince, a groan. Pressed her fingers into the wound further; felt the blood slick run through her fingers, felt sickening warmth coat her skin. She clutched the bleeding gap; her vision blurring in and out, her legs threatening to collapse beneath her, the pain taunting and overwhelming even as she pushed her fingers further in.

_Not when I'm surviving._

There's metal in her mouth. Warm, slimy metal that she tastes even though she doesn't want to know how it feels. Feels it churn in her mouth; gathering, mixed with bile and saliva all the same, and she swallows with difficulty, but she swallows.

_Reach. Go. It's not far away._

There's throbbing, there's pain, there's  _so much pain,_ but it's right, her mind's right, it's not far away. She has to live. Has to  _live live live_ , because the forty days aren't up yet, not done yet, and she needs to  _live_ , needs to  _survive_  if she wants some semblance of life back. She  _needs_  to live, it's not far away, she needs to live…

And after a stretch of time that feels like eternity, a thousand miles of blood that stained the forest ground, a world of white stuffed in her head, she falls, she collapses in herself, in the entrance to the obsidian cave.

…

_Three-hundred and four dead._

Count, and prick a needle through your skin.

_Three-hundred and three dead._

Count, and wipe the blood away.

_Three-hundred and two-_

Count, and let the thread tread into the—.

_—dead._

_Count_ , and let the thread through the hole.

_Three-hundred and one dead._

Count, and prick a needle through your skin.

...

''There're so many  _berries!''_ Madi yelped out, as she scooped all she could from their tiny farm beside the abode. She struggled through it, balancing all the berries she could in her arms, as she picked more berries and, occasionally, stuffed them in her mouth. Ever so often, a berry would drop on the dirt and on occasion, be squashed under Madi's shoes, which caused a small sigh from Lexa and a wince from Clarke (for she was wasting food), but there wasn't much she could do about it.

After all, when Madi was so excited, especially when it came to picking berries, what  _could_ they do about it? They certainly wouldn't be ruining her happiness, especially not after the failed spearing of the disappearing bear that was the source of her disappointment. Lexa's head turned to meet Clarke's—her arms were crossed, but there was softness in her features as she watched Madi go. And inadvertently, Lexa felt her lips turn.

''Don't stuff yourself, Madi,'' Clarke had scolded lightly, as she watched Madi move through the small farm in strides. Madi nodded eagerly and continued wading on through the bushes, careful not to step on any.

''Let her, Clarke,'' Lexa said softly, and Clarke's head pivoted towards her in surprise, her gaze flickering downwards to meet her, blinking in what Lexa could only describe as astonishment.

Lexa nodded, once, upwards to the figure of Madi, who was busily moving through the bushes, scooping up berries and ever so often, when she thought that they weren't looking, stuffed them in her mouth— and Lexa didn't try to hide the small smile that began to quirk the edges of her lips. Gazed up to Clarke; met her eyes. Quieter, softer, not nearly a murmur but not explicit either, ''Let her.''

…

There was the sun.

Radiating all like a cape that sheltered them underneath its wing. She shied her eyes away from the light. Too bright. Too  _painful_. Not nearly—not nearly black enough. Not if she wanted salvation.

She took a husked breath, clutched against the bleeding wound. Thin, thin string that kept the gape closed were loosened enough for the blood to trickle through the narrow holes in the hanging stitches. Her handiwork was terrible and aided by the scarce medical resources she had, she knew it was not enough.

Dusk needed to come. Dark  _needed_  to come, if—if she wanted to get better.

Her vision was dying. Her eyelids were threatening to droop; her head was too light, too stuffed, too dizzy for her to care anymore. Yet she wrenched them open; salvaged what little vision she had left; and marched on.

Battling through the leaves. Through the branches and the stubborn ground and the broken bark. That was where her hands were.

She looked up— and saw the blinding sun.

And grimaced; tore her eyes away from the burst of light. And once she did, she had jolted away, as she stumbled a few steps forward.  _Can't pass out now._

_Just reach._

_Reach for the village._

…

The figure showed on her doorstep—barged in, unwelcome, when Lexa was sorting out their supplies.

Her surprise was overshadowed by a surge of protectiveness and anger, as the dark cloud of thoughts stormed in her mind, and Lexa reached for her blade, alarm bells ringing in her head—until Luna staggered back and leaned on the doorframe, revealing a gaping wound that slashed her abdomen.

The medical bag she was manoeuvring with slipped from her hand and slumped from her legs to the ground.

''Lexa,'' the Nightblood gasped, straining for breath. '' _Thank the Spirits it's you._ Please…'' a cough, a groan, a choke of blood. ''… help me.''

Two years ago, maybe she would've helped. Before meeting Madi? Likely, if not to find another in kind. A year ago? Possibly, but not with Emerson still fresh on her mind. But now, she only saw red lights dancing across Luna's face, warning her what dangers she was to Clarke and Madi.

Luna was not her family. And she was especially  _not_ , after what she had done to them—stole their resources, left them scrambling to survive. If anything, this injury she possessed was deserved, and Lexa had a good idea of where it had come from as well.

And with a glare that said more words than necessary, she reached to pick up the fallen medical bag, tossed it at Luna's general direction, and wheeled away without a word. It would be more of a kindness than was necessary.

'' _Wait!_ Lexa…'' the figure tried to reason, but she was stopped with Lexa's glare.

Lexa stared, coldly at the bloodied figure leaning against the doorframe. ''You should go. Take the bag. You are not welcome in Shallow Valley, Luna. If I see you one more time—''

Steps travelled down the wooden hallway. Lexa's gaze flinched from Luna to Madi, who was practically running down the hallway. ''Hey, Lexa, d'you happen to see—''

Luna's eyes flickered from Lexa to Madi. At the same time, Madi's flittering eyes rested on the stranger on the doorstep. Their gazes met.

Lexa suppressed a hiss. Twisting around to face Madi, she glared at the child. ''Madi, leave,  _now.''_

But she wasn't listening, not anymore. Madi's eyes had gone wide, staring at the stranger on the doorstep; her mouth dropped in a gawk. Lexa expected Luna to scoff, or perhaps laugh at the prospect of a  _child_ existing with them—but she saw unease reign Luna's face. A mixing pot of disbelief and surprise, as they battled for reign on Luna's usually-careful features— and Madi's expression was in kind.

And Lexa was startled to find how much they looked alike.

Madi was the first to speak. And she uttered one word.

''Sister?''

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	50. Revenants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The past always comes back.
> 
> (They call them revenants.)

Luna's eyes watched Madi's in disbelief. Her eyes had flickered through the child as if she was analysing everything before she spoke something rash. And then, ever so quiet: ''Madi?''

" _Luna_ ,'' Madi exhaled, relief and comfort so evident in her voice. And then, there was a choke, and her eyes glistened. ''T-they told stories about you, Luna," Madi said, her voice unreasonably choked. "Nomon a-and Nontu. Every-everytime I asked. They said how brave you were, s-said how you f-fought to live, a-and they said  _so many times_  h-how you-you died in honour a-and they said I had 'ta forget ab-about you… a-all up to Praimfaya."

"Well," Luna said, her voice a soft grin. "Seems they can't get rid of me that easily."

And with that, Madi closed the rest of the distance and hugged Luna, clutched on her and sobbed, and Luna held her back because neither of them knew how long until the dream was no longer.

…

Lexa patched up Luna.

After the revelation that, well, Madi and Luna had known each other for practically their whole lives, it was impossible to turn Luna away. If Lexa did, then Madi would more than likely revolt, and probably scream, throw a tantrum, and yell in her ear for far too long, before deciding that she would be better off with Luna. Her  _sister_.

Essentially, Madi left Lexa with no choice. Neither did Luna, for the matter, who invited herself in with a gasp of  _''ai sis''_ and all but ran to embrace her sister. Hugging her until her blood stained Madi's shirt.

And so Lexa was there, cleaning Luna's wounds with Luna propped up on the table, as Madi sat by the side, queasiness apparent from her twitching, but all the time she stared at Luna in wonder. And Luna had been the same, a childlike wonder grazing her eyes, something that was once torn away from the violence and them murder now returned.

And Lexa could only wonder why she hadn't seen this before. There were only a few rare lines of Natblida—and more often than not, they would find siblings in the same bloodline. Madi and Luna—and their brother— among them. Lexa had never heard Luna mention a sister if at all—Luna had talked about her brother, mostly—but she had heard mentions of it once only in passing when she was too drunk to care.

_''All my family will be dead if I don't do what they want,'' Luna had said, with a slurred laugh. ''My parents, my brother, my si—Toast to that!''_

_She had tried to confront her, tell Luna that if she could just_ _survive_ _, then there was no need to cry. But Luna's survival meant her death then, and so, what use was Lexa's comfort?_

And therein lied her question once again.  _How did she not connect the dots?_

Everything clicked, once she thought it long enough. Of how Madi had a dead brother and sister—that was dragged away into a Conclave, and of how her family had left before Madi was captured as well. That was Luna and Nus. Of how she saw a visible reaction from Madi when she talked about the Conclave and  _Luna,_ the fear that haunted Madi's features was not the fear that Luna was still alive somewhere but  _because_  Luna could be alive somewhere, a hope she held against all hope that was sealed when Madi asked the aforementioned question.

Of how Madi refused to tell of her sister's name and ignored all questions that were asked by Clarke or her. Because she wanted to keep it to herself; keep Luna the remnant, Luna the  _remnant_  and now  _revenant_ , to herself, so they couldn't taint it with words they kept to themselves.

Lexa shook her head and focused on patching up Luna's wounds. The trio had been silent for long, mostly made up of the siblings staring at each other in astonishment, disbelief evident still in their features as the realisation began to settle in. Lexa's only wish was for Clarke to return, so they could send Luna off on her way.

''How…?'' was the first words uttered from Luna's mouth in total wonder. Lexa tried not to think about the rage within Luna when they entered the Conclave, the death and violence she had loved so dearly that showed when they sparred, a pacifier wrongly twisted by the hands of Fleimkipas—all lost, all gone.

She knew of stories, stories of Floukru, a Clan east to the sea, one allied with Trikru, its leader the long-lost coward of the Conclave. Though she was reassured with Luna's survival, Lexa never thought she'd see her again.

Until today.

Madi's excited chatter broke Lexa from her reverie.  _''I survived, ai sis! Praimfaya could not stop me! Lexa and Clarke took me in, gave me a shelter, home… I can't believe you are alive, after all this time, ai sis!''_

A grin, one worn of scars and blood, blossomed across Luna's face. It was the first time Lexa saw Luna truly smile.  _''As can I, ai sis. But we trust each other, no? We promised each other, remember?''_

Madi nodded eagerly. '' _Ai sis, and I have! I never thought you were dead! Not even when Father and Mother said you were. Because you were so, so strong… I knew nothing could've defeated you! Not even Heda!''_ And then, Madi sent a sheepish glance towards Lexa, for what she said in her ecstasy, but Lexa simply waved her on.

It was not everyday anyone could be reunited with their long-lost sibling. And though Lexa did have a history with Luna, and while there was the present to consider; she would not let it ruin Madi's long-awaited, long  _hoped for,_ reunion.

 _''I'm glad you trusted me so, goufa,''_ and the endearment in Luna's words aroused a longing, hopeful, and tinged with vulnerableness—  _grin_  on Madi's face. As if she still couldn't believe it, after all this time. And with a laugh and no short of tears in Madi's eyes, she took a raspy gasp and said with a smile: ''I'm no goufa anymore. But sis, I—I can't  _believe_  it,'' she said with another gasp. And with that Luna laughed, nudged the Nightblood and murmured something in the lines of  _''didn't you just say you never thought I was dead and now you don't believe I'm alive,''_ and at the Nightblood's splutter, nudged her again, signifying her joke with a smile.

And Lexa thought of the Luna in the Conclave, the one with too much anger and hate in her blood, and she found she couldn't manage to project  _that_  Luna on  _this_  one.  _That_  one spewed hate and razed death whenever she went.  _This_  one loved her sister, loved her family, laughed and smiled and cried at the realisation of her sister's survival.

 _What happened to you?_ was on the tip of her tongue until she remembered it wasn't her time. This was Luna's, and Madi's, and she should not interrupt what was rightfully theirs.

And so Lexa stitched Luna's wound in silence, as Madi and Luna exchanged tales of their survival, their lives, their nights and their fights, emotion prevalent on their faces as they let their tears flow, their laughs erupt and their smiles alight. The only reason stopping them from a hug her presence; but the life in the room touched all that was alive.

…

Clarke wasn't sure what to make of the stranger in their abode.

She was coming back from some casual creek-fishing when she opened the door to find Madi chasing a random stranger around the abode, and an oddly-stiff Lexa staring at them both, contemplating the scene. All three of them turned at Clarke's arrival, and Clarke closed her gape, feeling unusually scrutinised at.

Random other Nightblood surviving? Sure, after all, despite thinking that she and Lexa were the only ones left living on planet Earth, after Madi and Emerson and everything, what's one more to the crew? Random  _other_ Nightblood being the survivor that had stolen everything they had, that they'd cursed for more times than they could count, that had been their cause of misery and suffering, in their abode? Fine, but only if the only thing that was left of the  _survivor_  was a corpse and a bunch of black blood. But when the stranger introduced herself, with a grin, like Luna, sister of Madi, Clarke could only stand there staring at them both as she tried her very best to let her gape stay  _closed_.

Because damn if she thought her and Lexa would be the ones dropping bombshells.

After a laconic catching-up session from Lexa:  _turns out the rabid-animal stealing our food was Madi's long-lost sister,_ Clarke tried to find something to say, but her brain drew blank, causing her to open and close her mouth far too many times. Luna, however, had grinned with the hint of a razor's edge and informed her that she didn't realise that Madi was with them and if she did she wouldn't've stolen the resources, food, and the notebooks.

Which was a good excuse, right?

_Didn't realise my long lost sister was with you guys. Sorry about basically raiding all of your supplies while you were away, leaving you to fend for yourself, here's your food back!_

(If only the last part was true.)

But okay. Clarke's mind was still too blank to comprehend anything after the word  _sister_ yet.

Lexa had watched her reaction with an odd smirk on her face, which prompted a glare from Clarke, which had only spread the smirk further, and aroused a giggle from Madi and caused a funny-looking glance from Luna. Which wasn't exactly how she really thought meeting Madi's family would go, if that thought ever even crossed her mind until  _now_.

A dinner was courtesy, and so, after settling the fish onto the counter (as Luna stared at it oddly—and Clarke wondered if there was something actually wrong with her handiwork once again), Clarke decided that she and Lexa would cook while Madi and Luna went into an impromptu catching-up session.

Because if you found your long-lost sister that you thought was dead after one Conclave ''murder all until only one stands'' situation and then a worldwide radiation apocalypse, you'd definitely need some catching-up time, right?

…

''I can't believe it.'' Clarke murmured as she skinned the two-headed fish, stealing a glance at the duo that was exchanging tales on the couches. Disbelief was still on her features, but dialled a level down—but that wasn't to say that she was moderately  _okay_  with what she'd learnt. For god's sake, Madi's sister, whom Madi had agonised over for so many sleepless nights and had nightmares about, was  _alive_!

She blinked. She still couldn't fully digest it, not even an hour after Madi had dropped the aforementioned bombshell. Tearing her eyes away from the happy duo, she glanced back at the two-headed fish, who stared back at her in a very dead manner. Almost reflecting what Clarke had felt inside if she had to get all philosophical about it.

''Neither can I,'' Lexa admitted. Her gaze was not on the food, but on Madi and Luna, who were sat on the couches in the living room, chattering excitedly to each other as they fondly shared memories and tales. It was rare to see Madi this happy, and the only thing that ever came close to the happiness that blossomed Madi's features would likely be during gatherings, where they helped build her trebuchet together.

''I-I don't even know what to say,'' Clarke said with a sigh, as she finally turned away from the dead gaping fish to face Lexa. ''The  _survivor_ that stole all our resources and caused us to suffer for the past few weeks is not only  _alive_  but  _here_  in our abode, and we're treating  _them_ a meal, despite their stealing—because she's Madi's  _sister.''_ Clarke shook her head. ''And we're yet to learn what type of person she is—when all we  _know_ about her now is that she's a thief, and a... very devoted  _sister.''_

Lexa swallowed. ''It seems so,'' she said, her voice unusually tight. Her eyes seemed clouded at the word  _thief_ , and looked nearly far away which made Clarke wonder if she was missing something— but after a moment, it had passed.

Clarke's gaze flickered away from Lexa to stare at the scene before them. She—she didn't even know what to  _think,_ much less say, about basically  _anything_  that's happened in the past hour. So with a cleared throat, she said: ''It's just… I've never seen Madi this happy before.''

Lexa cleared her throat. ''I… suppose anyone would be exhilarated to find a dead sibling alive,'' she said, her voice sounding odd. ''Or their family, for the matter.''

Clarke took in a deep breath, and her mind wandered over to those underneath the bunker. Her mother was still there,  _alive—_ at least she hoped so. And there was Bellamy, and Raven, and Murphy, and the rest of her friends in space, that she didn't even know  _lived_  or not, and she had only recently gotten the resources to find out. There were at  _least_  two years—or so many more until she could see their faces again, feel their skin, hear their voices and bask in their presence. What wouldn't she give to see their faces now?

''I'm happy for her.'' Involuntarily, the words tumbled from Clarke's mouth, as pain slashed her heart when she thought of her  _other_  family. Her glance was wistful as she looked on the chattering duo. Everything seemed so simple now—from afar, it was just a sister, talking to a sister—as if they weren't on survival's edge, as if one of them hadn't stolen all their resources and left them for dead, as if they weren't in a world where  _survival_  was their main worry, where there was no-one but  _them_  that was cooking dinner tonight.

Lexa responded with a tight nod and released a breath. As if she thought the same that ran through Clarke's mind. ''As am I.''

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought! There's a lot to unfold (especially after last chapter) and hopefully I'll get to discuss this with you all. :)
> 
> Alternatively, you can talk to me on Tumblr! [@fireserpyre](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/fireserpyre)


	51. World's Haven

'' _Sis!_ I-I'm so glad you survived!'' Madi said, her tears shining in her eyes as she gazed at Luna in happiness.

 _Sister. Sistersistersister._ Madi  _still_  couldn't believe it, not even now. She was gonna say it so many times, every single  _time_ she looked at Luna, she was gonna repeat it enough so her mind would finally understand that she wasn't living in some hopeless dream she'd conjured up anymore, that this was  _real real REAL_ , and that she wasn't gonna wake up, because this wasn't a nightmare that she'd endured through so many times before.

This was real, and Madi was in her haven.

Everything. E _VERYTHING EVERYTHING EVERYTHING_  was so real, she was  _so sure_ that it was real, but her mind felt like it was stuttering in the area between realand not realin suspended animation, because—

Her sister was  _ALIVE._

Her sister, who made jokes with her and laughed along as she strung sentences incomprehensible. Her sister, who played games with her and loved her spears  _so much_ that Madi sometimes wondered if she loved them more than  _her,_ but that had never been true because she'd always abandon her spears to play with her. Her sister who she loved to hate; who Madi enjoyed irritating the heck out of in a contest to see who could out-irritate each other the most; her sister who loved her family and brother and Madi herself, who took care of them when their parents weren't there; who  _cared_  and  _loved_  him, her, them,  _all of them,_ even though it had never seemed so.

Her sister who  _LOVED_  her was  _here_ , was real.

This was real.

''So you made a Clan?!'' Madi burst out in excitement, as she gazed on her sister with awe.  _Sister, sister, sister._ ''What'd you name it?!''

''Floukru,'' Luna said, half in modesty and a half in sheepishness—her features warm at Madi's excitement. And then, almost noticing her own blush, Luna added: ''Didn't you listen to my tale, ai sis?'' she teased, mock-offended. ''Or have you already forgotten your lessons on the 12  _krus_ of us?''

Madi didn't seem to hear her but rambled on. ''Aw, not after our game!'' Madi scowled, but on the inside, she was beaming with happiness.  _SHE REMEMBERED! SHE DIDN'T FORGET!_

Luna only laughed. ''Yes, after our game, ai sis.'' Then, she nudged her, at Madi gasped and squealed until she forcibly nudged Luna back.

 _Ai sis! You're not winning this!_ Madi thought as she grinned, and tried to push Luna's arm away to prevent an incoming nudge, but it did nothing to faze her.

 _''No! Stop!'_ ' Madi gasped out via a fit of giggles, as Luna attacked her with a bunch of tickles. Collapsing in on herself to save herself from the significant onslaught, Madi buried her head into her legs, hiding her helpless grin as she squirmed under Luna's tickles.  _Clarke was bad enough!_

And then, Madi suddenly gasped in horror, which led to Luna's quick pause in her tickling as she gazed at Madi in concern, and Madi paused in her squirming enough to stare at Luna incredulously as if she was just digesting what was being said. ''Of course I listen to the  _classes_! I'm not some typical…  _gona!''_ she said indignantly, which only made Luna laugh in what could only describe as relief. ''And it's thirteen now!'' she said in triumph, in a '' _ai sis I remember but you don't!''_  type of sibling-mocking manner.

Luna chuckled, as she took a glance at Madi who stuck out a tongue. ''It is. I keep forgetting,'' she admitted. It was new to Luna, at least, the idea of  _Skaikru_ , the 13th Clan to join the Coalition. She found it most unusual that not only did this new  _kru_  manage to  _survive_  but to be accepted into Lexa's Coalition, as well. Of course, she knew  _why_ now, if by how Lexa and Clarke looked at each other wasn't glaringly obvious enough already, but added to the fact that had shared at least a short three quick kisses while skinning fish on the counter, Luna certainly understood some of the sentiment behind it.

''Clarke's from Skaikru!'' Madi said with an annoyingly-smug grin. ''I bet you didn't know that!''

 _Spirits_ , her little sister  _did_  know how to annoy her, even after five years of thinking her dead and unceremoniously reuniting in an apocalypse, of course.

Luna forced herself to shake her head, hiding a smile under her breath. Perhaps she should think of it in another way— knowing that, even after an apocalypse, and  _years_  of thinking that the other was lost forever, that they would be alright when they met again... that spoke miles to her already.

It was reassuring.  _Mebi oso na hit choda op nodotaim._  May we meet again. She had thought of it as a bunch of nonsense— _yu gonplei ste odon_ was far more practical, a reassurance via incantation before death— but perhaps if they could meet again in this lifetime, before death even touched either of them, then who's to say that they wouldn't do so again in the next?

Even if the recipient was her annoying little sister.

And so Luna finally shook her head, and said, even if it were a small white lie: ''No, I did not know that this Clarke is from Skaikru,'' And as Madi's triumphant smile widened, Luna could only look away with a smile. '' _Ai sis_ ,'' she said, clearing her throat as her gaze returned to Madi, and she could see the triumphant smile evolve into something more, something brighter. As if Madi still couldn't believe the concept of being a little sister anymore.

(Or, perhaps, at least not again, given the  _circumstances_  she was in.) So Luna's smile remained, in the face of Madi's childlike awe, as she cleared her throat and continued: ''Tell me more about…  _Clarke kom Skaikru._ ''

From over the counter, Luna could hear an audible groan, and a chuckle, both of which she ignored. Her attention would be only on Madi now, as it had been for the past hour or so.

''T-they fell from the  _skai!''_  Madi yelped excitedly, as she shook Luna's arm for her attention (which she had already initially given). Her brow furrowed, though, at Madi's sentence.  _Fell from the skai? Madi would have to elaborate about that._

''The  _Skai?''_  Luna repeated almost dumbly, glancing at Madi in disbelief. Was the title not for flair? Since when beings could fall from the skai?

Things could, of course. Things fell from the sky all the time. Random metal constructions and unusual elaborate pieces of contraptions that no one in Polis could explain. Some had tried to figure them out, and fewer so managed to create a few seemingly unnecessarily complicated mechanisms that Luna would rather not touch, for the unusual sounds it made or the jerky, awkward movement some produced. She vaguely remembered a tale of a Commander who had found one of these unusual pieces, which had led to her downfall.

Things fell from the sky. But humans? Never humans.

''They did!'' Madi chattered on excitedly, almost oblivious to Luna's total confusion. ''T-they brought down so much  _technology_  and  _metal_  and  _machines that worked!_  Spirits, it was  _amazing_  what they could do! Still is!'' she said as if she was speaking of some angelic haven in the afterlife, which had added on to Luna's confusion.

''A-and I-I'm really happy Clarke's from there! 'Cause I got someone 'ta talk to about all these  _inventions_ a-an'  _contraptions_ a-an'  _machines_!'' she said with pride, and Luna half-expected joyous tears to spring from her little sister's eyes. For by the way she was gushing about it, it certainly seemed as if the tears were about to happen. Which only turned Luna's confusion into bafflement, the transition which went blissfully unnoticed by Madi.

Madi was beaming. ''She's an expert at it!'' she yelped to no-one in particular, but it had made Luna question whether if she should be also, beaming at this Clarke's apparent  _feats_  with regards to…  _engineering?_  along with Madi.

There was an inaudible choke that came from the counter, followed by some patting.

''A-and Lexa!'' Madi said, and if she could even go more vigorous with joy she did. ''S-she's the Heda! D'ja know that?!'' And it was in that instance when Luna's mind went into a deadpan  _no, I know nothing of the Commander whom formed a Coalition for all the krus in the name of peace, whom I also encountered in the Conclave and whose life I spared in exchange for murdering our brother's, whom is now using a wheelchair for reasons I am yet to discover but most likely has to do with her subsequent fall as well._

But she decided to relay none of this to Madi, for her history with Lexa was not to taint her and Madi's bonding. It would be left for later if she and Lexa were to be left alone for a talk. And even then there would be too much history to be dredged that would be enough to talk over in a simple session. And as Madi awaited her response eagerly, Luna only smiled bitterly under her breath and nodded once. ''I know,'' she said passively, unwilling to put any sort of tone in her voice.

But Madi's grin had softened a little until the only evidence of it was a slight quirk in the corners of her lips. Luna gazed on, concerned— _did she say something wrong?—_ until Madi shook her head, her sad smile still on her face.

''Oh. You knew her…  _before.''_ Madi said quietly as if her mind had caught up to her mouth, looking up to Luna with an expression she couldn't decipher.

Luna thought of the nights they spent together; in bars, in training sessions, in conversations. An unwitting smile came over her face as well. ''Knew her enough,'' she said, her passiveness still in her tone, but none of it was used to shroud anything anymore. After all, there was nothing to hide, at least not if they were speaking of  _then_.

''Was she your friend?'' Madi asked, her eyebrows furrowing in curiosity.

Luna chuckled, and her memories turned; memories of fighting, trying to best each other even during training, of swearing to the other that they themselves would win, and would take their life personally in the arena. ''Not exactly,'' she said, a sad smile crossing her face. They weren't friends—not when all that mattered was survival and that involved the other's death. But then at Madi's crestfallen expression, Luna bit back a sigh, and forced the rest of the memories out—the memories of being drunk together, even if they were too young to enjoy the bitterness of the grape but rode off the freedom it brought, memories of exchanging tales of families, most about parents than anything about  _siblings_  for it was still too painful then to touch, and basking in another's human presence, the other's alive presence before the inevitable battle to the death.

And so with another sigh, Luna said finally: ''—but yes, I suppose you could say so then. Friends,'' even if the word tasted unusual in her mouth, for Lexa wasn't her friend  _then_ , certainly wasn't her friend  _now_ , but she was the person Luna held on to before the bitterness of the world's wine set in, the person that understood each other's experiences as they spoke of their too-short lives, the person that was  _human_ unlike so many others, the person Luna cared enough about.

And Lexa had, evidently, shared the same sentiment—for if not, why would she let her go, alive?

With a bitter sigh, as she was met with Madi's expression, Luna smiled with an emotion she herself couldn't tell was what. And when she turned away, she realised that it shouldn't matter to herself anymore, but to Madi instead.

''That's so  _cool!''_ Madi gushed, as her gaze bounced back and forth from Luna to Lexa as if she was envisioning how it all happened.

''It is, I suppose you could say,'' Luna said, as she gazed at her excitable sister. Testing the words on her lips, she mouthed out: ''' _Cool'._ ''

Madi grinned, and it was as if light itself was emitting from her younger sister as if she were the sun. ''I wanna learn everything!'' she yelped out. ''F-from all your stories in Polis to how you survived!'' And it was then, when Luna gave a weak smile, that Madi smiled even more.

''I will do so,'' she promised, which had seemed to make her sister even more physically animated. ''Tonight. When the feast is ready, I will tell us everything.''

''It's a promise!''

''I promise.''

And when Madi's grin ceased to leave her face, Luna could only let out a breath and closed her eyes, letting a small smile play across her lips as she thought not of a past that once was, but of a future that could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you liked the Madi/Luna reunion and the talks! There's a little bit of Luna's perspective this chapter. So, what do you think about Luna so far? Anything about the sister stuff? Anything interesting to point out about her? 
> 
> Let me know what you thought! Constructive feedback always welcome <3


	52. What Counts

Madi couldn't believe it.

Her sister was alive.

_Alive._

_ALIVE!_

Up to now, everything felt like a dream. She felt like she was in a dream, and she almost wanted to pinch herself, despite how utterly stupid that would've been. But it was only in her dreams that her sister was alive, and now that her sister WAS alive, it just felt so, so surreal. Which was why Madi was worried she was going to be floating the very next minute, because what if this was only a really, really good dream that she was having, and she was gonna wake up disappointed?

But she wasn't floating so far, so that was a pretty good sign, right?

''So,'' Madi said, as nonchalantly as she could (and probably utterly failing), as she shovelled food into her mouth, focusing on the figure in question that sat contently beside her, who gazed at the fire that crackled in front of them.

Spirits, she still couldn't believe it.

''Why'd you come here? How'd you find us? How'd you survive?'' Madi listed off the questions in a flurry, emphasizing the word survive as her eyes studied Luna's. ''What happened? How'd you get outta Polis? Where were you for so long?''

''Madi...'' Clarke began, looking around slightly helplessly, as her gaze finally landed on a somewhat bemused Luna. 'Maybe try not to overwhelm Luna with questions, yeah? After all...' Her gaze switched from a disappointed Madi's to a curious Luna's expression. ''She hasn't got much time to settle in yet, and I'm sure she'll answer all your questions in due time.''

''Thank… you, Clarke kom Skaikru, but no.'' An amused smile, barely visible and yet it was there, shone on Luna's usually carefully-guarded features. ''This is my sister that I have lost for five years. Settlement is a minor issue compared to that.''

Madi's heart soared. Eyes glimmering, she looked up at Luna in happiness. And when Luna didn't respond but squeezed Madi's sweaty palm that told her she knew, she saw, she understood, Madi felt like she was in the clouds. And the questions tumbled from her mouth. ''How'd you survive?'' she asked, her mouth almost in an incredulous gape, but that was overshone by knowing that she was alive and that was all that mattered now.

Of course, if Madi thought hard enough, if she focused hard enough, she'd know, or at least some bits of how Luna did it. But that depended on the time when she arrived. And then, Madi frowned. When did Luna arrive? If it was recent, then… that might've been okay, but if it was a year ago? Maybe more? And what if Luna was there when Emerson was alive? That would mean…

Madi felt troubled, but the feeling had passed quickly. Because she didn't want to think about that now, didn't even want to care about it, because all that mattered was  _now_  and all that mattered was that she was  _alive_  and right here right now.

Luna chuckled, and a small smile passed her lips, but it was in neither happiness nor pride. She took a breath, squeezed Madi's hand tightly again (as if she didn't want to ever let go, and if she did then she would be gone), and it was sadness that lingered in her smile. ''Are you sure you would like to hear it? It is not a good tale.''

Madi's features seemed slightly hesitant for a moment before she gave a nod. Clarke glared slightly at Madi—as if she wanted her to choose the opposite. Lexa gazed at Luna, an unreadable expression on her face.

But Luna noticed neither. Or at least if she did, she didn't show it.

''That is a long story, Madi,'' she said wistfully, and Madi grasped Luna's hand tighter as if she didn't want to lose her to the past, to memories that were only a downward spiral. ''But we have time.''

And with that, with one shallow breath, she began her tale.

_A march. None of us had believed it, not at first. But then my scouts spotted a sighting in our tranquil sea, disturbed by a boat's taint—and then it happened._

At this, Clarke stole a glance at Lexa, but she didn't return her gaze.

_Only rumours, whispered by the gossip that touched all like black wildfire—that told of a Heda's death, of her fall from grace. And with it a new Heda's rise—only to die to the last one's blade._

And with this, Luna's lips quirked and her gaze flickered over to Lexa. Looked her up and down; Lexa did not meet her eyes. There was silence, for a moment, save for the crackling fire, until Luna cleared her throat and continued her tale.

_Dozens died when the Fleimkipas touched shore. Razed through our villages for blood; demanded the Nightblood in hiding to step forward and accept her fate. Before more died in her name._

Madi tensed, and her fingers involuntarily tightened against Luna's palm. Luna only smiled, bitterly, and she gave a soft squeeze back.

''I do not know how I managed to live with myself then,'' she said, and it was quiet; wistful; almost a whisper, that only Madi could hear. ''But, I suppose—even then, in a place where war and violence should be nought, my mind entered into a bastard place of survival.''

_It was only Rowan that saved me from screaming out my name. Clamped a hand over my mouth and dragged me into an abode, while the Fleimkipas performed their executions outside._

And with a low sigh, and a look cast aside, she murmured: ''... And though I hated him then, for that— I wish he could be with me now.''

Nothing but the crackling fire filled the solemn silence.

_And when my lungs were heaving and my voice had screamed itself sore, I realised that they'd executed the last. All thirty, elders and children, their heads stood straight and proud above the earthen ground. The Fleimkipas exchanged looks— one questioned if he should gather more, while another doubted of my presence. We held bated breath as they conversed—until finally, the leader of them all, a bald man with a robe of brown, singed by the marks of soot and crimson-ebony blood, signalled for their leave._

Lexa's breath quickened at that description. Madi's breath hitched. But neither Luna or Clarke noticed.

_They never forgave me; and for good reason, for would you forgive a cowardly leader who didn't save her own? They despised me; the dead and their families, and I was ashamed of myself as well—for would you believe in a leader who didn't sacrifice for her people's lives?_

Her eyes glimmered with... something, and her lips quirked at their edges. Was it sadness? Wistfulness? Shame?

But only for a moment, and Luna's eyes looked down to meet the fire, a sigh exhaled from her as she continued her tale.

_I couldn't look them in the eyes. I left Floukru at night. Told the ferrymen to take me somewhere fit for my exile, somewhere where I could die. They brought me offshore of Trikru territory, and I found myself a cave, where I stayed as I waited to die._

And Luna smiled bitterly at that, and Madi shut her eyes.  _Oh_   _Spirits no_.

She felt a squeeze on her hand, and Madi's eyes flew up in surprise. It was Luna, smiling softly back at her, almost as if she was telling her that it was okay. She was alive now, and that was what mattered.

_I had thought my people were safe._

_I heard them through the forest, one day by chance. A band of three Fleimkipas, two males and one female, chattering over a bonfire. And despite myself, I listened._

_They spoke of Floukru's death. How their army came in marching; in the pursuit of a Black-Blooded. The Fleimkipas had come once again in a search for me. My people were massacred, when they were tested for their blood, and it was until they had all died that the Fleimkipas realized their mistake._

Madi felt horror seep through her.  _Ohspiritsohspiritsohspirits_. And on Luna's face remained a bitter smile; and Madi felt some fear grip her heart.

_They had died, as I waited in my cave for death, all because I was not there for my sacrifice._

_I was malnourished; I was good as dead. I could take one, perhaps two, but never three of them—not in my state. But when I heard the roar in my ears and my screaming blood, seeking for vengeance; a retribution in death—I couldn't leave them alive._

_I took one by surprise; pressed my knife against his neck and threatened what was to happen if they resisted. They were new Fleimkipas, I could tell— they put down their weapons._

_I slit his neck. And while they watched his gargling face, his hands futility clutching at the waterfall of blood, I threw my weapon at the female. It struck her heart; and when she collapsed on herself, I was left facing the last Fleimkipa alive._

_Weaponless, panting, facing a man fuelled by rage with a sword in his hand, I felt the joyous adrenaline surge through my veins. And although my rational mind was disgusted, I, feral and bloodthirsty, could not bring myself to care anymore._

_It was only I and him left, as my blood and my mind screamed for his death. And it was then when a smirk must've crossed my face—for the man let out a bellow and charged._

_I evaded his strike, and the thirst for blood soared—even as his furious strikes rained on me like he couldn't ever stop. Dodging, punching his hand to take out his sword, kicking him in his robes—I fought, not with grace, but like an animal._

_And when he finally managed to incapacitate me, his arm around my struggling waist and a blade against my throat—I grinned, weakly, and told him to slit my neck. He tested his blade; drew one, slim drop of black blood._

_And while he was stunned, I knocked his arm away and stabbed him with his own sword. He died, eyes wide, mouth frothing for a word he couldn't find._

There was one, final sigh. Madi's eyes looked at Luna in horror—but she was transfixed. Clarke's face had a mixture of something in it—fear, and... approval? And Lexa had looked away.

_I had won only because of my blood. And in that instant, all trace of adrenaline was lost; my fervour, gone. I despise myself for it. It was not a victory—not when it was my hated blood that decided the match. The same black blood that had my people murdered; had fuelled Conclaves and killed countless others; all for what?_

She chuckled. There was just the fire; there was nothing.

_My people were gone. There was nothing I could do to bring them back, no matter how many times I reminisced about the past; regretted my hasty, thoughtless actions. But I didn't need to settle for their deaths. Their revenge lingered._

_I was on a hunt to murder the Fleimkipas when Praimfaya struck. I was in the territory of Floukru; I had found shelter, salvation in a cave. I survived because I had lived on what little food there was left until I found Shallow Valley. You know the rest._

They were all silent when Luna finished her tale. Clarke's gaze flitted away to face the forests surrounding them as if she couldn't bring herself to meet Luna's eyes. Lexa was staring at the fire below. And at long last, Madi was the one to break the silence.

"But you're alive, right?" Madi said quietly, voice hopeful as if hoping to cheer her sister up. "That's what counts."

 _Sometimes, I wish I died._ But Luna, looking at Madi's hopeful expression, gave her a small, uneasy smile. "... yes, Madi," she said, voice unusually choked. And then, stronger (because she needed to believe it herself), "Yes, Madi. That's what counts."

…

And after the dinner, they had all settled in for the night.

They had extinguished the fire, and there was only smoke that blew up into the quaint night. Clarke had packed away the leftovers (however little there was left), while Lexa had returned to the abode to treat a sudden pressure sore. Madi had been helping about, buzzing through all three adults as she tried her best to help with whatever was going on until she got too tired and her eyes were too droopy for her to focus anymore.

Luna had found another abode to live in, in the village, for now. Madi had protested weakly against it, but Luna only gave her a wink and mouthed something about  _sleepovers_. So Madi was okay with it for now. And she was too tired to fight back anyway, so she had basically crawled into her bed without much complaint.

Clarke was the one to tell her a story tonight because Lexa was too busy taking care of the pressure sore. She told her a story of Bellamy Blake, and Octavia Blake—the only two siblings on the Ark, that was cast out because one was an illegitimate sister, and the other had shot the Ark's Heda because he didn't want her alone on the ground.

And even though there were many things that were  _wrong_ , so many bad things that the two bad children did, Madi had smiled throughout the entire tale. Because they did it for each other, because they were family.

And that was the best message Madi could take out of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. There's more of Luna's backstory revealed. And of course, there'll be a lot more to uncover, and we'll be knowing some more soon. Does Luna feel suspicious to you or is there anything you'd like to point out about her?
> 
> Let me know what you thought! (Or, if you'd like, talk to me on Tumblr! [@fireserpyre](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/fireserpyre))


	53. Sore Guilt

Luna woke up to a grinning Madi staring back at her.

Blinking the tiredness away from her eyes, Luna had let out a muffled groan, and hiding a small smile that was beginning to form on her features, she mumbled: ''It's five in the morning, Madi.''

Madi nodded eagerly. ''I know!'' she yelped out in excitement, and Luna wondered if she was hearing right. ''It's five in the morning, the fishes are awake an—an' we can  _hunt_!''

Luna blinked dazedly, and Madi's words registered in her mind a split-second late. ''W-what?'' she said, blinking at Madi's unwarranted excitement.

''The fishes are awake!'' Madi said enthusiastically, and Luna tried not to wince at the sudden volume of sound which her ears were projected at. ''The fishes are awake, it's not yet morning yet — c'mon! I've got spears!''

''You've said it yourself, Madi,'' Luna mumbled, as she closed her eyes from Madi's excited expression. ''It's not morning yet.''

''Which means it's the best time for hunting! C'mon!'' Madi said and tugged at her arm excitedly. Luna only closed her eyes and tried to drift off to somewhere else.

It didn't work. Luna groaned softly, as Madi had tugged on the dead weight of her arm for nearly a minute, and finally,  _finally,_ Luna sat up from her bed and moved over the edge, rubbing her eyes, much to Madi's excitement.

'' _That_  was the best sleep I've ever gotten,'' Luna said, half in exasperation, but half of it was genuine as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, but when she cleared her eyes from the gunk, she realised that Madi wasn't in the room anymore.

She blinked.

It took a few considerable minutes, where Luna contemplated whether if she should fall back asleep again, blaming her tiredness on her stitches, or wait patiently for Madi's presence, when Madi came back with two spears in hand and a grin on her face as she handed one to her giddily.

Luna shook her head in a soft smile, and taking the spear in hand, stepping outside of the abode, feeling the fresh air battle through her hair, she nodded to Madi, who was practically vibrating with excitement. ''Show me.''

…

_''Wake up.''_

She woke to the sound of laboured breathing. And then, Clarke realised that it was hers.

Her heartbeat erratic, sweat coursing down her neck, she clawed herself up to the back of her bed. And Lexa was staring back with a propped head up in concern. ''Clarke. Was it a nightmare?''

Clarke swallowed, blinking the afterimages from her dream that were seared into her eyes. Tried to regulate her breathing, as she wrapped her legs up with her hands. ''Yeah.''

''What did you dream of?''

And at  _those_ words, Clarke exhaled shakily.  _Come on. Lexa'll understand. You've shared your nightmares with her so much already, and she's shared hers too. So why would this be different?_

''The Maunon.''

Lexa's eyes seemed to flicker away, looking down back to the bedsheets. ''What happened?''

Clarke remembered it, all right. Pulling the lever. Seeing them dead. Toys scattered and abandoned in a playground of corpses. Dinner halls empty with ghosts. Elevators filled with hands and feet in the stench of death. People gasping for breath, reaching for their legs, in a futile escape from the radiation.

''You can talk to me about it.''

Clarke screwed her eyes shut. Yeah, she probably needed to talk. After all, she couldn't keep it in her head all the time. ''I… I was there again. At the mountain, alone. The lever was there. And they—they were in front of me. My mother. Bellamy. Raven. And the rest of the Skaikru— they were getting experimented on, by the Maunon. But this time you were there too.''

Lexa swallowed thickly. She knew that Clarke had nightmares; not nearly as regular as her, but still regular enough that there would be some nights where they both lay in the bed awake—unwilling to claim sleep, for it was pain or tormentation alike that wracked their bodies and minds those nights, and sleep unwilling to claim them. But Clarke thinking about her in the Mountain was not something she had once thought of.

It was... interesting, to say the very least. Clarke had always regarded her people like her own family. Doing anything one would to save them. Lexa decided that the morning was not bright enough for her to go into the connotations yet.

And so, Lexa looked back at Clarke with a nod. And it was then when Clarke knew that she understood; that Lexa didn't need to ask the question to know what came next.

''I pulled it.''

They didn't meet each other's eyes. And then, Clarke thought bitterly to herself:  _was it supposed to be a surprise?_ And yet this time; it was different.

She exhaled a breath and looked away.  _You would pull it any time. Say the rest._

''I— I didn't feel guilty. I just…'' Clarke looked away. God, she couldn't do this.

_Say the rest._

She closed her eyes. ''I felt… felt like I didn't care. I was just—I was  _glad_  that you were alive. Glad that the rest of the Skaikru was alive. And I'd felt glad that you were with me—whole. Alive. And I know I should care because it's two hundred souls, but I didn't care about them _._ Not in the dreams.''

''It was a dream, Clarke,'' Lexa said. And it was only that; the images which a mind could manifest, warp into things once thought unimaginable— and she thought back to then. Back at the mountain; and the first image she saw was leaving Clarke behind. Sighed, almost, and added: ''And being able to remember feeling  _not_  guilty of it is a feat in itself.''

Clarke looked away. And looking back up at her, lips quirking slightly, Lexa said: ''And you do feel guilty now, don't you?''

''Feeling guilty that I didn't,'' Clarke said, ''isn't guilt at all.''

Lexa sighed, and grasping the bed to move herself up, sat herself up beside Clarke. ''It's still a form of guilt. And there was no right road from that. It was your people or them.'' And quieter, she added: ''It has been four years, Clarke.''

''Killing two hundred isn't something anyone can move on from, Lexa,'' Clarke said with a hint of rue, and yet the venom dictated in her emotions was apparent. ''I don't know what this feeling is.''

''Acceptance. There will be a time that comes when you'll stop beating yourself over it, and though you may not be ready today yet— you shouldn't fear it when it does.'' And with this, Lexa took a glance away; looked from the bedsheets, winced slightly at the sight of her legs, and went to their room in this quaint abode.

A few years ago, she would be commanding wars from her tent. Razing down house after home with a horse of steel and an army of assassins and warriors; pressuring Clans into joining her Coalition for a life which, ironically, was of peace born from the flames of war.

Lives shattered. Families broken. People executed. Thousands killed. She had enough guilt to last a lifetime.

But Lexa never thought that this life would meet her. Yet she was here now.

Her lips quirked, but she didn't smile. Lexa took a glance back at Clarke. ''It had worked for me, at the least.''

Clarke shifted in her position, legs gathered up in her arms. Didn't respond to her words.

''And of course—you should not worry much of it.'' Lexa exhaled and pushed herself more against the bed to steady her position. ''Dreams don't mean anything.''

And finally, Clarke met her eyes, and her smile was rueful. ''Coming from the Commander who had said that her dreams were warnings from the past Commanders.''

Lexa's rueful smile was in kind. ''But is there any use thinking about what's happened?''

''I know, Lexa,'' Clarke said. Pressed her fingers against her forehead. ''It's just— I can't shrug it off.''

''None of us can. The best we can do is ignore it.''

There was a sigh. And then, Clarke looked sideways towards Lexa, and asked: ''Does it ever go away?''

Lexa's gaze flickered from Clarke to her legs on the bed. A hint of wistfulness seemed to play in her eyes. ''The pain stays. It's only how we choose to deal with it that counts.''

…

''Should I get soap and water?'' Clarke asked, as she watched Lexa wince as she sat up further, as she carefully unwound the bandage that was on the wound, her eyes focused on the pressure sore that had formed yesterday.

Clarke was worried, of course. It wasn't the first time that a pressure sore had developed, nor was this one the worse one by far—but it didn't mean that she shouldn't  _not_  worry about it. The pressure sore was fine, for now, but if it had developed, or worsened into an ulcer, then Clarke would've had no way of treating it—not with their scarce medical resources and with what limited amount of pills they had. Specially added to the fact that this sore seemed particularly large. Better to be safe than sorry.

Lexa shook her head. ''That is alright,'' she murmured. Almost carefully, she pressed on the reddened sore on her thigh—it didn't blanch. Then, she felt the skin around the sore. ''Softer,'' she said.

Clarke nodded and mentally noted it down. It didn't mean much—yet, but it seemed like a normal, mild sore. ''No ulcer?'' Clarke asked, almost hesitantly. ''Odours? Pus? Fever?''

Lexa shook her head. ''Only reddened. It is fine now.''

Clarke swallowed. ''Okay.'' And when she noticed Lexa's attempt to transfer herself, she asked: ''D-do you need help, or…?''

''I'm fine,'' Lexa breathed out, as she eased herself carefully into the wheelchair. Clarke closed her eyes, and nodded almost absentmindedly, and turned her head away. Her mind seemed to be on something else.

''Are you thinking about Luna?''

Almost immediately, Clarke was jolted out of her thoughts. She opened her eyes. ''How'd you know?''

Lexa chuckled. ''It was obvious. And I would be surprised if you did not think of that subject—after all, it has only been a day since she arrived.''

And at this, Clarke had to stifle a small sigh. It  _had_  only been a day since she arrived, but already there were so many things to consider, so many things to  _think_  about. Turning her head back to Lexa, she said, hoarsely: ''She took all our stuff, Lexa. It-it doesn't matter that she's Madi's…  _sister_.'' she said, disbelief tinging her tone. ''She's still  _stolen_ all of our resources, nearly left us for  _dead._ It's not like she's going to change suddenly now that her  _sister's_  alive.''

Sister. God, the word felt so alien on her tongue.

Clarke had the time to think. Stealing their  _resources_. Leaving them for  _dead_. God. she couldn't even begin to comprehend all of it because she'd probably go into a spiralling tunnel of thoughts from there on out.

And  _Madi_ ,  _Madi_  seemed completely oblivious to it all. And Clarke could maybe chalk it up as her excitement at Luna's return, at her happiness at her sister's presence that she didn't consider what it implied—even though  _she_  was the one who advocated for it the most, even though  _she_  was the one who had protested about a  _presence_  and how  _it_  was responsible for everything, from the trap in the woods to ''messing up everything'', in her words, as absurd as it was. Clarke didn't believe her, even as Madi insisted. Still  _didn't_ , when there was a respirator in the woods and markings of Emerson's handiwork was so evidently  _there_ , but the doubt that was already had began to gnaw on her mind fruther—just as all of Madi's doubts seemed to slip from Madi's own mind.

Now, it was as if Madi didn't  _care_  at all. Didn't care that her sister was  _there_ , in Shallow Valley for all those nights and days,  _stalking_ them without a sound, the only evidence of her presence that wasn't even there. Didn't care that her sister stole everything of theirs; didn't care that she had left them for dead; didn't  _care_ about everything or  _anything_  Luna had done. If it was even her in the first place—not even caring to learn if Luna had come two years ago or two days. And that was because Luna was her sister.

Clarke was bothered by the thought. Turning her head to meet Lexa's, she asked: ''W-what do you think about her?''

Lexa sighed, softly. Her eyes seemed far-away; like she was thinking about something else, but then when Clarke frowned in concern, the cloud was gone. ''I cannot say much now,'' she said, tone carefully modulated. ''But the last I saw her… she was different.''

At this, Clarke's eyebrows quirked. ''In what way?''

''She—she had been bloodthirsty.'' Lexa took a breath. ''Murderous. All she wanted was to kill—or at least, it was a facade she showed. She and her brother—they had ruled the arena. Killed anyone that was a threat to them; hunted one after another until there was none left.'' A breath, and when Clarke seemed in the slightest confused, Lexa elaborated: ''That was what she was, for survival.''

Clarke sighed and looked away. ''S-should we worry…?''

Lexa nodded slightly. ''We need to—keep an eye out for her, yes.'' And clearing her throat— ''Yes, we should worry.''

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought! :)


	54. Fishing Up A Family

It was swimming through the current. Wiggling through the streams, feeling the water wash across its skin. Cruising down the river.

One, shaky breath. She ground her soles into the mushy bank, readied her stance. Her spear positioned in both her hands, her left hand three inches away from the spearhead and her right near the bottom of the pole. Breathed in one strong breath, and she felled one swift strike at the river.

It pierced the centre of the fish, in its gills. It had been pinned to the shallow riverbed, as the fish flopped uselessly in the water, its blood streaming down the current— and Madi let out a little yell in triumph. ''Yes!''

Luna had been watching, with a small smile on her face as she quietly looked at the show. Now, she patted on Madi's back, as Madi grinned at her eagerly. ''I taught you well,'' Luna said finally, and Madi's features brightened even more.

''You did!'' she babbled in excitement. ''I've learned so much from you—''

''—But there is one thing you could improve on,'' Luna cut in. ''Your stance. Your right hand should go under and up the pole, to ensure maximum power,'' she stated, and demonstrated by carefully taking Madi's hand from the spear, and repositioning it so it was correct. ''And your left hand should be farther away from the spearhead,'' she said and placed Madi's left hand ten inches away from the spearhead. ''Try now.''

Madi nodded vigorously and focused her gaze on the river. Her eyes darted over the stream, as she heard the crickets chirp and the toads burp all around the forests, and she kept her eye out for a shimmering presence in the water.

It took a while until her eye finally caught a fish. Holding a bated breath, Madi neared closer, feeling the weight of the spear in her hand, until she was three meters—no, two meters, and then  _one_ —and with one swift strike—

''Good job, ai sis!'' Luna commented as Madi let out a whoop in joy. The fish had been caught by the meat before its tail, and was flopping around violently for its freedom. Pride had rested itself on Luna's face with a small nod of recognition, as Madi bent down to retrieve the fish.

A grin shone on Madi's features as her eyes twisted away from the struggling fish to see Luna's face. ''Thanks!'' Madi yelped out, as she wrestled the spear free from the fish, one hand keeping the flopping fish down, as with spear in hand and the fish's tail dangling from the other, she waded her way back to Luna.

''Your technique is well,'' Luna said, once Madi had been standing in front of her. ''Better than most your age.''

Madi blushed with pride. ''I-I'm not all that good,'' she said modestly. ''C-can't catch as much as you 'ave,'' and with that, she took a sheepish glance at Luna's stack of fish, a sharpened wood struck through the six of them and driven into the ground.

''Ah,'' Luna said, with a smile. ''That is because I've been hunting for an hour. You, however—'' and at this, she gazed at the two fishes Madi caught, ''—managed to catch two within the span of fifteen minutes. That is rather fast.''

If anything, Madi's blush deepened in response to Luna's praise. ''I-I got really lucky,'' she said. ''It's been really hard to find fish in the river nowadays, 'specially with the weather an' all. They—'' and at this, she gestured wildly at the two fish she caught, ''—must be some sort of a family. Which's why they're so near each other.''

At this, Luna's smile turned sad. ''Perhaps,'' she said, even if logic screamed the opposite. And with a cleared throat— ''Perhaps they were. I suppose it was a good thing you caught them both, then. At least one wouldn't've had to live without the other.''

She sounded wistful. And Madi tried not to think about it too, because she felt like she understood what Luna meant. Trying to change the subject, she said: ''Is-is the spear your favourite weapon?''

Luna let out a small breath and smiled as she gazed at her own spear. Toyed with it; letting it roll across her palm. ''It is. Offensive, but could be used as defence as well. Only a tip of metal—thus nothing can be injured unless you want it to be, unlike blades. One strike, and it can all be over.'' Luna sighed and sounded even more wistful than she was before. Madi decided not to ask.

They stayed silent for a few moments, each contemplating their own spears. And then, as Luna turned over her spear, almost breaking herself out of her own reverie, she looked over at Madi with a cheeky grin—

''You managed to catch me in the abdomen, goufa, With  _this.''_ and she tested the weight of the spear in her hand. ''That is far better than I would've expected,''

Madi furiously blushed and stammered out incoherent words as Luna looked on, amused. It took a while until Madi managed to gasp out a sentence. ''No! I didn't mean it—I thought you were a bear!'' she protested, as Luna's grin widened, clearly enjoying Madi's embarrassment. Madi, however, didn't take much notice, as her cheeks burned in incredible embarrassment ''I'm sorry, ai sis!'' she yelped out.

Luna smirked. ''Who said I told you to be sorry? Be proud. You nearly managed to catch something that you believe were prey. If I were a bear instead, then you would be feasting on that meat last night. Don't be guilty.''

Madi's cheeks were still red with embarrassment, but she nodded quickly. And then, casting her gaze out at the river, as if she wanted to go through a quick subject change: ''D'you wanna… hunt some fish?''

Luna couldn't suppress the smile on her face as she gripped her spear with a nod. ''Of course.''

…

Madi and Luna had come back in late afternoon, with a haul of fish struck through with their spears, their points facing downward, as they chattered with each other animatedly as they walked into the abode. Neither noticed Lexa, whose eyes had flickered to the two figures once they walked through the door.

''And I shot near the bullseye—and I scared away the gona! He never bothered me again!'' Madi said, her eyes alight with happiness as she turned to Luna, excited for her reaction at her story of the goufa and the bow.

Luna laughed, her eyes sparkling with mirth. ''Well done, ai sis. Near the bullseye, you say? Not bad, but I could've done better than that.''

''Hey!'' Madi said, indignantly, her anxiousness for Luna's response long disapparated from her expression. ''You're on!''

''Can you give us a moment, Madi?'' Lexa asked quietly, breaking Madi and Luna out of their talk. Madi pouted for a moment, almost pleading with Lexa to allow them to continue their talk, before stalking out of the room to find Clarke, who was busy outside striking up a fire.

The door shut with a click. The resounding awkwardness was palpable, neither Nightblood sure if she should speak first—until Lexa cleared her throat.

''I don't remember the last we had met. Like this.''

''I do.'' Luna's lips quirked. ''We were about to kill each other. Facing each other at the centre of Polis; I wielded a spear and you a sword. They all watched as we fought to become Commander. And I will admit it—it was a good fight you gave. Yet I hesitated—and ran away to what would come to be known as Floukru.'' And her lips still quirked, she added: ''You would think that the Fleimkipas had better security.''

''I know that story,'' Lexa said, clearing her throat. ''You had left us and established Floukru; a Clan where people could seek refuge in if they were tired of the killings and wars. It had lasted for a few years, till the Fleimkipas came—'' and this Luna's face seemed to contort, ''—and you are here now.''

Finally, Luna nodded once.

''But that was not what I meant,'' Lexa said swiftly. ''I meant meeting like this here. In survival.''

Luna chuckled, and her eyes were almost a dark mirror. ''Are you trying to imply that I wasn't trying to survive in the Conclave?''

Lexa didn't respond. Luna had liked doing this often back then—pretended not understanding what Lexa had meant, enjoyed watching her splutter for an alternative response, to explain what she had meant with her words. Lexa wasn't going to take the bait; she was no longer twelve or thirteen. So with a cleared throat, she said: ''You know well what I mean.''

Luna smiled. ''I do. You mean  _here,_ as in, in an abode with my long-lost little sister with me alive.''

''And suddenly caring not of peace anymore.''

''Who says?'' Luna said, looking at her almost lazily.

Lexa cleared her throat again and stared straight back at Luna. ''Killing the Fleimkipas after you sworn a pact that you would not kill after your brother's death. Creating Floukru because you wanted peace—and abandoning its ideals after it went up in flames. And here, now.'' Lexa stated, almost cold. ''Stealing all our resource and leaving us for dead.''

_And perhaps some more which I would not comment on._

Finally, Luna sighed. Looked away from Lexa, too. ''I still care for peace. It is the entire reason I had created Floukru—and its ideals which I still stand behind. Yet, would you expect me to  _not_ take revenge when the Fleimkipas destroyed that world of mine?''

Lexa didn't respond, but tilted her head slightly at the woman, waiting for her to elaborate. ''And?''

Then, Luna exhaled heavily, like she couldn't contain the memory. ''After the... Fleimkipas had my people murdered, I had wanted to hunt down the one responsible. That had always been at the forefront of my mind. But afterwards—after the Death Wave and Floukru's destruction, it was only survival which I cared for. After all—'' and at this, her shoulders had hunched, slightly, and then she flickered a glance away, ''—it was the least I could do for my people. As the Last,'' she said, and her lips quirked bitterly.

In a way, perhaps, Lexa could understand her. But there was a gap in the knowledge she couldn't avoid; for how could one only care for revenge—so much that it was all they sought before the Death Wave had struck—and after their revenge was nought, miraculously turn towards survival?

And so, Lexa cleared her throat. ''I cannot fully follow your logic,'' she finally settled on. ''You left, for a world of peace, after your brother's... killing. And then, after your world of peace was destroyed—you sought revenge. And after the revenge was ripped from your hands, you wish for  _survival_? After you had admitted yourself that you wished for your own death?''

''I did not wish for my own death, Lexa,'' Luna finally said. ''I had merely said that it would've been preferable to my people's murder. Even if I am a pacifist, so to speak, I cannot sacrifice survival for the sake of retaining peace which will not last.''

There was a pause as Lexa gazed at Luna, for she had not answered the question until Luna finally spoke. ''My purpose changed,'' Luna supplied. ''I went from the hunting of the Fleimkipas to ensure my own survival. Especially after I saw—'' at this, she caught herself. Lexa narrowed her eyes. ''It isn't that far a stretch,'' she finally said and gave a rueful smile. ''Especially for humans like us.''

Especially for humans—for all that tinged the undertone of Luna's three successive events had, in some way, had to do with survival. Whether it was mixed with revenge, honour, loss—there was still survival, pulsing like a beat under it all. And in some twisted way or another, Lexa could understand that.

But there was still something that Luna would not answer.

''And our resources?'' Lexa said, narrowing her eyes at Luna, because though she was open with her pasts—she was deliberately avoiding any topic that surrounded their  _recent_  survival.

''As I said before,'' Luna replied swiftly. ''I did not notice that Madi was with you. If I had, then…'' her lips quirked. ''… safe to say that none of this would have happened.''

Lexa nodded slightly, the movement involuntary; despite not believing it herself.

And with  _that_ , Luna cleared her throat, as if trying to change the topic, and looked back at Lexa. ''I never thought I would say this to you, Heda, but I'd like to… thank you, for taking care of Madi for me,'' Luna said, her voice constricted. She was unused to gratitude, thinking of favours as debts.

''Don't call me Heda.''

''What?'' Luna sounded bewildered. Lexa almost sighed and thought of the time when she had become confident in her own skin, no longer the Natblida waiting to die, where all she wanted was to become Heda. To see the difference now, her brash sixteen-year-old self-compared to her now at twenty-four.

She offered a small, wistful sigh. ''I'm not Heda. Not anymore,'' Lexa said, gazing down at her fingers on her lap.

A pregnant pause came over the duo as Luna contemplated Lexa's words, until she finally yielded a chuckle. ''I suppose… I'll make a Floukru of you yet.''

Lexa let the joke pass, despite the tension surrounding the topic between the two of them. She almost gave a small sigh, remembering the times when they fought on the topics of peace and blood. Always parting with smiles, agreeing to disagree, though the two of them always ended the day with envisioning how they would kill each other in the Conclave.

It was only now that Lexa recognised the extent of influence that the Fleimkipas had on the Natblidas. No wonder Madi was terrified of them, even in a time when there should be nothing to fear.

A pause passed between the two of them until Luna spoke again. ''Does it have anything to do with your…?''

She indicated slightly towards Lexa's legs, nearly hesitant, which had almost made Lexa chuckle because of how much it was unlike Luna.

''No.'' Lexa said, her voice quiet, but stern.

''What happened…?'' Luna asked. She sounded tentative, but there was an undertone of curiosity to it.

"I was dethroned, twice. Once after the bullet, which resulted in my paralysis, and once after.''

"But you still have the Flame in you?"

"Yes."

''Who had you—''

''Shot,'' Lexa supplied, resting her hands on her lap. ''By Titus.''

At this, Luna snorted. ''Knew I couldn't trust that Fleimkipa. Too bold, too violent, that one. Always prone to war.'' A moment passed. ''Did you let him live?''

''I… did not see to his death.'' At Luna's stare, Lexa confirmed: ''He lived.''

Luna sounded surprised but recovered soon after. ''Huh,'' was all she offered, before the silence resumed between them. Lexa half-expected Luna to joke about how she would've decapitated Titus immediately, given if she were in Lexa's shoes and if Luna was her bloodthirsty, hateful fourteen-year-old self who cared for nothing but slaughter, but she didn't.

At that, Lexa frowned. If she were shot and paralysed a year earlier, before meeting Clarke, Lexa wouldn't've hesitated to kill Titus; partly due to his treason, mostly out of revenge—like she did to Gustus. But…

_Admit it, Lexa. You are growing soft._

''I understand why you wouldn't want to be called Heda'.' Luna chuckled, as she looked at Lexa with eyes that seemed to pierce the soul. ''It is a reminder of your past, is it not? A past which you seek to forget?''

Lexa didn't respond, but flickered her eyes away from Luna's gaze. ''So… Madi.'' Lexa cleared her throat, in an attempt to change the subject. ''You never brought this up once during our training, our talks. Only a brother. Not a sister.''

_She had done it, drunk once, but Lexa preferred not to mention that._

Luna almost chuckled. ''Why would I have told anyone about my baby sister? She is a Natblida, and that in itself marks her death if anyone knew. My parents made that mistake, once.'' Luna gave a dry chuckle. ''My sister was in danger of Fleimkipas. Of the Conclave. In danger of you.'' Luna glared at Lexa, whose expression remained impassive. ''I was to bring her to Floukru, but Father and Mother did not trust me. So they took her instead.'' A slight sigh, a wordless scoff. ''I'm sure she grew up around hateful tales of Fleimkipas. I'm surprised she took a liking to you, the Heda she was taught growing up to hate.''

Lexa was taken aback, but remained impassive. After a moment, she asked, voice stiff and hard: ''Why did you not kill me in the Conclave, then?''

Luna stared at Lexa. ''Sorry?''

She gazed right back at Luna. ''We both knew you could've killed me in a fight, Luna. If you became Heda, Madi would be safe. Your family would've been safe. There would be no need to escape.''

''You misunderstand me, Lexa kom Trikru,'' Luna shot back. ''Floukru was not just for my family. I had wanted a world without killing since I was fifteen, when I realised the error of our ways. But it was a dream, and dreams could not stray further from reality. Up until Floukru.''

Floukru. A world of peace; away from the killing, the murder, the sacrifice. It was supposed to be a sanctuary; and it was, but not defined by the peace it brought; but for the simple definition— that they were all running away from monsters, one way or another.

Lexa said none of it, however. Luna sighed, as if she was recalling a distant memory. ''I and my brother had planned Floukru for years, despite my reluctance—for staying with our old ways was easier than adaptation, was it not?'' And this, a rueful smile. ''We—he had people construct a floating land, people who were tired of war and death as we all were. He—we had planned to escape, but the plans had never come to fruition—up until I killed him.''

A low, bitter smile. ''Madi was the last straw, for the establishment of Floukru, and then we had planned to leave with her, for her safety. But our parents had gotten there first.'' Ruefulness played at the edges of her lips. ''I would not let the Fleimkipas do to her what they did to me.''

Then, Luna's gaze flittered, almost aimlessly, as if searching for a star outside of a window that was still blazing light. ''And besides, I could not have killed everyone. Not you.''

The resounding silence was palpable. Lexa cleared her throat. ''I have a Flame. Clarke.''

''Oh?'' Luna quirked an eyebrow, and Lexa swallowed as if to relieve herself of some tension. But then, a smile split across Luna's features. ''You misinterpret me. I am aware of your Flame, Lexa. In fact, it could not have been more obvious. However, I am merely speaking of our past… association during our time before. I harbour no ill-feelings nor sentiment to our past friendship.''

Lexa nodded slightly. And a moment later, she said: ''We would have to talk about Madi.'' Her voice was constricted. ''And your survival.''

Luna chuckled, under her breath. ''There is nothing much I can say, Lexa kom Trikru. I am alive, and so are you.'' At this, she gave a small, rueful grin. ''And my sister is, as well. Whether it is fate or faith that kept us alive; we are here now. And thus is the present.''

''But there is a past to consider, is there not?'' Lexa said, and that broke Luna from her low smile. The murder of her people. Her sought-after revenge on the Fleimkipas. All of that, so plainly said in the story she told yesterday, and yet none was said of her survival after the Death Wave had descended.

As if she had something to hide.

Lexa's posture was still tensed. ''Your survival?'' she said, voice tight.

''I lived,'' Luna supplied. In her eyes played a smile. ''On the basis of my revenge. Nothing else.''

Silence passed, and was only interrupted by Clarke's call at the successful lighting of a fire.

Luna straightened herself and patted her attire. Stretching her limbs, she said: ''Always a pleasure conversing with you, Lexa.''

Lexa gave a slight nod back. Stiff, regal, like she did when she was Commander. ''And the same to you, Luna.''

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought!


	55. Tired Talks

They were setting up the fire.

Madi was running about, a bunch of firewood in her arms, as she provided the fuel to the fire that kept it alive. Clarke had been tossing in leaves, branches—anything flammable, generally, that would make it easier for the fire to consume and burn the firewood later on.

Meanwhile, Madi was also indulging Clarke in a bunch of… well, Luna-gushing and sister-related stories. Most of which Clarke had taken in with a weary smile and a bunch of nodding, because her mind had sort-of drifted off after Madi's continuous jabbering for the past thirty minutes. And yes, it was  _continuous_.

''S-she's so good at spear-fishing!'' Madi gushed, as she quickly put down the firewood by the smothering fire, as Clarke arranged the various flammables around the campfire. ''S-she got so much  _fish_! An' we had a race— an'—an' she got so much fish so quickly!'' Madi yelped out in excitement, and Clarke couldn't hide her smile.  _Is this the first time Madi's glad that someone beat her in spear-fishing?_

''Seems like you've got competition,'' Clarke said good-naturedly, as she hefted the firewood into the fire-pit.

Madi beamed. ''It's gonna be  _a lot_ harder than beating you for sure!'' she said, which aroused an indignant play-along glare from Clarke, to which Madi poked a tongue out at.

But then, Madi seemed to quieten down. Under her breath, she murmured, in what sounded like impassioned sadness: ''Luna's too good at it though. It's gonna be impossible to defeat her in spear-fishing.''

Clarke poked Madi, which caused her to look up at her. She was grinning. ''Not impossible. Just  _really_  hard.''

Madi beamed at Clarke's words. ''Okay. It's gonna be  _really_ hard if I wanna beat her at it.''

Clarke smiled as she poked at the firepit with a stick. ''But definitely not impossible.''

They had stood around contently for a few moments until the door to the abode creaked open and out came Luna and Lexa, who were making their way towards the fire. Madi had let out a tiny squeak in excitement, and set about putting off the dust from the two stretches of logs that were lopsidedly around the fire.

''How's my favourite Nightblood?'' Luna almost drawled, as she ruffled Madi's hair, and a small smile blossomed over Madi's features.

''I-I'm good,'' Madi managed to stutter out, hiding a small blush and a goofy smile that was forming on her features.

Clarke had casually left the pile of firewood by the side as she rounded over to where Lexa was, and she smiled and dropped a kiss on Lexa's lips. Lexa smiled into the kiss, fingers brushing against Clarke's cheek, as Luna feigned exasperation and Madi made a funny face at the duo.

They sat around the fire, as the night descended around them like a blanket. Stars flickered in the sky like blinking lights, and the crickets of the night chirruped through the forests around them. The only sound that was evident other than the sounds of the night was the slow chattering of the four survivors and the crackling of the fire that warmed them despite the cold black that surrounded their lives like a shroud.

''— can't believe you actually did that!'' Clarke's laugh reverberated across the foursome.

''Madi!'' Lexa said in exasperation, glancing at the embarrassed Nightblood. ''You should not.''

Madi's face flushed red. ''— stop sharing my stories, Luna!''

And on Luna's face was a grin. ''Don't tell me to  _shoj op, goufa!''_ she teased, as Madi sulked at Luna.

 _''Aw c'mon!''_ Madi pouted, as she glanced around the other three survivors. Neither, however, showed some sort of regret—rather, they seemed to only grin more at Madi's antics. Which didn't particularly please her much, because, well, it was  _HER_  stories they were talking about! Personal, none-too-good,  _embarrassing_  ones that were probably even  _more_ embarrassing than the time when she thought that Lexa wasn't the same Leska Heda that basically ruled the entire world, and that Clarke wasn't same Clarke that was Wanheda, the Maunon-Slayer!

Okay. She should probably stop thinking about it, if she wanted the blush to fade from her face  _AT ALL._

''Do you have another one?'' Clarke asked, a small smile crossing her face as she looked at Luna in curiosity. Despite Madi's obvious embarrassment, of course, and Lexa's second-hand embarrassment at what Madi had done.

Spirits, that was a conversation she did not need to remember.

Luna's grin transformed into a smirk, and, through her embarrassment, Madi stared at it in horror. ''Ah, of course I do…'' she said, and with this she gave a  _knowing_  grin towards Madi, which she did  _not_ like. ''There's another one when Madi was younger, and knew nothing of the Commanders or the Spirit or the days before—''

 _Oh Spirits_. Madi knew  _exactly_  what Luna was gonna talk about, and  _spirits_  it was the worse thing ever and she was definitely  _not_  going to let her  _say it out loud in front of everyone._

''Luna, why don't you tell us some of  _your_  tales?'' Madi blurted, eyeing Luna with what could only be described as a triumphant grin. ''After all, I'm  _sure_  you won't mind, ' _specially_  after talkin' about me so much!''

Luna chuckled. ''I'm not sure if you would like to hear them, _ai sis_ ,'' she admitted, even as Madi scowled at her.

''Oh, c'mon! It's only  _fair_!'' she said exasperatedly, glancing at Luna hopefully.

''There is a variety,'' Luna admitted, as she glanced around the three others. ''I do not know which you want me to talk about.''

''Hmm,'' Madi said, as she swung her legs from the log. And then, she almost immediately perked up, as if she had just come to a realisation. ''I know! Why—why don't you talk about Shallow Valley?'' she said excitedly, glancing at Luna with a hopeful look on her face. As if she wanted her sister to talk about what she thought of a place Madi had come to know as a second home.

''It's a nice place,'' Luna said with a smile. ''Quaint village. Especially most quaint  _now_ , considering that there are no villages other than that left. Nice trees. Of course, there's not much competition for it, seeing that the rest of Earth is scorched—''

''No-not that!'' Madi scowled, which only made Luna laugh and Clarke sigh and Lexa stifle a small smile. ''I wanna know about how you  _survived!_ Not how you feel like it looks like!'' she said, exasperated.

Luna let out a long, drawn-out, exaggerated sigh. ''Fine,  _ai sis,''_ she said. ''My survival had involved the southwest of Shallow Valley, an exceedingly long time spent in caves, traps, and—''

But Luna's jabbering had evolved into white noise in Madi's mind. Traps. There were so many  _things_  that sprung along that thought; first came memories of bear traps and trebuchets, and there was almost a superficial smile, but then came along memories of the trap that almost killed Lexa, memories of Carl that made her stomach plummet.

But she felt her stomach shift; because she remembered that it wasn't  _Carl_  who'd set that trap.

But would it really…? No, it wouldn't.

Uneasily, she looked over at Luna. ''W-what type of traps?''

Luna seemed puzzled, as she gazed on at the trio of frozen expressions, varying in disbelief and severity. ''Usually moose traps. Why?''

Lexa looked as if she'd seen a ghost. Clarke's was in quandary. And Madi's voice was hoarse when she spoke again. ''W-what did you do… with them?''

Luna appeared bewildered for a moment, but a second later, it was gone. Her expression had morphed from teasing into detachment—as if what she'd said, what she'd  _admitted_ only fully came to understanding in her mind— and she cleared her throat. ''I—had set traps around Shallow Valley,'' she said bluntly, almost like it was an admission.

Madi's mouth was open in a gape. '' _That_  trap…'' she muttered. ''It was you.''

They didn't need to ask to know what Madi was talking about. And this was when Luna nodded, almost inexplicably, and no-one else could speak.

''And the person I saw…'' Lexa muttered, tearing her eyes away from the fire to Luna. ''That was you.''

Luna nodded, again. Clarke took in a shaky breath and closed her eyes.

''You were the third-party,'' Madi realised. Eyes opened in astonishment, fear, regret. ''You were the one that was stealing from Emerson. You were the one who set the trap.''

(And yet she couldn't be surprised—not exactly, for she'd knew, didn't she? Knew in the dark, murky bottom of her heart that she'd only placed her deepest secrets in, and yet she'd pushed it away, tried to forget it, tried not to  _think_ about it, for all it implied and everything she didn't want it to be. So it was  _stupid_  to be surprised, it was stupid to feel scared or astonished or regretful because she knew it all along in her heart, didn't she? If she were thinking logically?

But she wasn't thinking logically, she couldn't, she didn't  _want_ to. And it was now, the admission itself on Luna's lips, that had confirmed the worst fears that she didn't want to be true. And even if she knew it all in her heart all along, it was Luna's words that jolted her out of that desperate world that she wished were true.)

''Well…'' Luna said, her voice unusually constricted. She tightened her fists, and relaxed again as if to appear careless or casual. She tried to give a weak smile, but it faltered. ''Can't have a party without thieves.''

_Oh Spirits. It was one big misunderstanding._

And hoarse, almost like she couldn't say it herself: ''Y-you were tha-that  _shadow.''_

Lexa cleared her throat, and her eyes flickered away from Luna, like if she couldn't speak—but her  _face.._. it wasn't surprise or anything—and it was almost like it was a confirmation in her tired eyes. Clarke—Clarke had swallowed a breath, and was staring at Luna, nearly slack-jawed, as if she couldn't believe what was being said. And Madi—Madi wasn't even there anymore, but closed her eyes and was living in a turmoil of her own mind.

Carl Emerson. All the raidings, everything that  _happened_  in the cave. The trap that Lexa was caught in, that they'd blamed Emerson for. The raidings that had happened in Carl's cave, that he had blamed Clarke and Lexa for. The times she'd collapsed, seeing a shadow in the midst. Spirits, _she couldn't thin_ k—

There wasn't  _nothing_. That's what she hated the most about it. It should be quiet, Madi felt like  _everything_ should be quiet,  _especially_  after what Luna had said, especially what she had admitted. And yet the crickets still chirped and the wind still whistled and the night was still black and yet the crackling fire continued. The world span on.

And even though everyone around her was silent; nothing else was, and that was what Madi hated the most about it.


	56. A Thousand Cuts Necessary

Fourteen words. That was all the words that had been said after Luna's admission about the trap. Madi had kept track of the count in her own head.

First there was the cleared throats, and the awkward exchange of needing to clean up the fire and the food that was left. That was five words.

Clarke and Lexa had returned to their own room, without much talk—something about the pressure sores, they'd said, but all of them knew that it wasn't true. That was seven words, and two words more with both Madi and Luna's low murmurs of agreement.

And now, Luna was sat on the couch of the living room, contemplating it all. She didn't meet anybody's eyes since that talk—Madi would've thought that she would've retired to her abode by now, but she didn't. And now, Madi would be saying the fifteenth word.

''C-can we talk?'' Madi asked, her voice nearly a whisper, as she slid beside Luna onto the couch. And that was when Luna closed her eyes, tightened her fists, and nodded a small, determined nod.

When she opened them again, they weren't the same anymore. ''We should,'' she said, her voice constricted. ''Ther—there is a lot I still need to tell. Madi. Too much.'' Luna took a deep breath, and wrenched her eyes away from Madi's desperate gaze. She couldn't do this—not when her little sister was staring at her like  _that._

_But you have to, Luna. Remember? No more secrets. No more foul memories to hide. Say it. Spit it. Tell her you will answer her questions truthfully. Sworn on a blood pact._

Luna sucked in a slow breath. And when she expelled the breath, she straightened her back, gazed at Madi with determination. ''Madi, I swear to you. If I shall not tell the truth—''

''— then I may give you a death by a thousand cuts,'' Madi ended glumly, as she looked up at her sister. ''I know how it ends, Luna. Y—y'don't need 'ta explain it to me.''

_Luna. Not ai sis. Spirits, she's serious, then._

''Alright, Madi,'' Luna said, and breathed in a long breath. ''You understand. So tell me your questions.''

''H-how long has—has it been since…?''

''Two years,'' Luna said, voice lamentful. ''Two years since I arrived at Shallow Valley.''

Madi gulped. ''Y-you've been alive for so long. All—a-around Shallow Valley. S-since two y-years after P-praimfaya struck. M-maybe even longer. So why'd you take so long?'' she said, her voice striken. ''To-to tell us—to tell  _me—_ that y-you're  _alive_?''

Luna bit back a sigh. ''Shallow Valley is large, Madi,'' she said. ''F-for the first year or so, I had been around the southwest forests of the Valley. Hunted until there was no game left; not enough to sustain an ecosystem, apparently,'' she said, her voice rueful. ''You—you were around the northeast. After I had exhausted most of the hunt, I had followed the river upstream to  _your_ end. Even then—'' and at this, she chuckled, ''— _even then,_  I had not realised.''

''But you saw  _me_ ,'' Madi said, urging. ''Saw me in 'ta woods. I know it, 'cause you wouldn't've appeared if it was something less.'' she took a breath, and met Luna's eyes. ''I saw  _you._ T-the flash o' b-brown hair. The  _shadows_ in the woods _._ Y-you took my  _bow,''_ Madi said, and her distress was apparent as it magnified in size.  _'_ 'Y-you saw m-me, an'—an' I saw  _you._ How didn't you realise it was  _me_?…'' she asked, trailing off in disbelief.

And at Madi's desperate words, Luna chuckled bitterly. ''I was not seeing you. I was seeing ghosts.'' And with a rueful smile, another chuckle, and one small breath— ''and you were, too.''

_Or at least, we thought we had been._

Madi closed her mouth. But another thought after another barraged after itself, until there were too many to count—all those thoughts she had  _ignored,_ in her bliss at her sister's arrival, at her being  _here,_ at her being alive and alive and  _alive—_ that she had deliberately forced back down, convinced herself that it didn't matter, that she had a good reason  _why,_ that she didn't let herself to think about, because she told herself that her sister was  _alive_  and that was  _all_  that was gonna matter to her now anymore, but now they all slammed into her mind like a truck, and then when she opened her mouth the words tumbled through like the start of a waterfall. ''A-an' why—why'd you set that  _trap_?'' she blurted out, and even then Madi knew she was becoming more distressed. ''T-the one w-we blamed  _Carl_ for?! W-why…?'' her voice faltered, and she trailed off.

Luna squeezed her eyes shut, and exhaled a long, loud breath. ''I… was  _hunting,_ Madi,'' she began soothingly, but Madi had her eyes shut as well, as if she didn't want to  _believe_  what Luna was about to say, even though she hadn't  _said_ anything yet. ''Only recently had I came to the northeast end of the Valley, and it was then, seeing the moose and the deer that I had decided to use my older hunting methods. Traps. Useful, easily-constructed, and could catch big-game prey while sparing me the effort.''

''A-an' you found a fissure.'' Madi said, her voice croaky. ''F-found a fissure and de-decided it was the best place to set a t-trap. A-amid a c-clearing for grazing moose.''

Luna's smile was bittersweet. ''All I wanted was moose. Didn't think I'd catch the Commander in it, eh?''

Madi was quiet for a moment, save for a low glare sent at her sister at her last remark. ''An'—and you let us blame  _Carl_ for it.'' Madi suddenly said, her tone accusatory. ''Y-you let us blame  _him_ f-for what you did _.''_

Luna quirked an eyebrow in confusion. ''Who's Carl?''

Madi's nostrils flared, and unleashing a frustrated cry, she made a leap for Luna. But she was held back by Luna's firm hands which locked her arms, and she could only struggle and glare and bare her teeth as Luna looked at her on with a strict  _calm down Madi_ face which, despite it all, had calmed her down.

Luna let go.

They breathed in loud breaths, and Madi slumped back to the couch, her cheeks red with embarrassment at her sudden outburst and her aggressiveness— _oh Spirits, why did I even do that?!_ But Luna had only given her a tight nod as if while she didn't necessarily  _like_  what Madi did she understood  _why,_ and so Madi took a deep breath and trying to get the red out of her cheeks, she explained to Luna who Carl Emerson  _was_.

''C-Carl's a Maunon.'' Madi finally said, amid her pants. ''Was. H-he w-wanted to be a-a good p-person. H-he tried. B-but 'cause of  _the_ — _your_  trap, he g-got b-blamed for it an'—an' died be-because of it.''

Luna's eyes flew up in recognition. ''The Man in the Cave,'' she said slowly, as if she didn't want to risk another outburst. ''Him. I know his cave well. I-I have visited, on some occasions,'' she said, and that was when Madi's eyes widened, because  _it was the raidings Luna was talking about, Oh Spirits the raidings,_ and she didn't know what to  _say_ because it was as if her world had been flipped upside down, felt so shattered and broken and  _lied to_ like the universe was playing some sort of twisted game on her that would never  _end._

_(But it wasn't a twisted game. But her world wasn't flipped outside down, wasn't shattered and broken, wasn't lied to, because that was the fake world she'd constructed in her mind—the fake world which she let herself convince herself that Luna had nothing to_ **_do_ ** _with that, even if the answer was so, so, so_ **_glaringly_ ** _obvious. That—that_ _utopia_ _she had in her mind was broken, and she was thrust out of it into the cold shivering world.)_

Madi's voice was anguished. ''D-d'you even know what happened 'cause—cause you did  _that?''_

Luna sucked in a long, slow breath, and Madi felt her heart drop. ''I… I suppose I knew, to some extent,'' she said. ''It wouldn't be prudent to say I  _didn't_ know, for I'd be lying. I knew he was angry; I knew he would blame it on  _someone,_ and I knew where the nearest of them were. By the time I realised what was happening, it was too late for me to do anything about it.''

Madi wrenched her eyes away from Luna. And so with a breath, the words tumbled from her mouth. ''Did— do y-you  _regret it?_ Stealin' his food? Lettin' him blame Clarke an-an  _Lexa_ for it? Playin'  _games?''_ she said, and her voice was so twisted, so, so  _desperate_ for Luna to be  _sorry_ , to accept her mistakes, to renounce herself as someone  _better._

But she knew her sister well enough to know she wasn't like that.

The next words were bittersweet. ''I wish I could, Madi,'' she said, her voice ever so soft, and Madi just wished that she could wrench that away, because  _how could she, how could she BE like that at this time, when they were talking of a topic that kindness or wistfulness couldn't be solved with, that they were talking a topic of life and death that she'd played SO EASILY like a fiddle?!_

(But, in some way or another, she'd felt comforted. For if she spoke like that; then she knew that Luna was telling the truth.)

And it was as if Luna could read Madi's thoughts because it was in that moment she gave a sigh and said: '' _Listen to me, Madi.''_ she urged as Madi cast her eyes away. ''I have sworn to tell you the truth—and I cannot back away now, just because you ask of a question whose answer you know you will not like. But  _hear_   _me_ —'' she said, and Madi's gaze reluctantly turned back, ''—if I could turn back time, I can assure you— that I would have handled it a lot more differently.''

''But you don't regret it,'' Madi said, her voice hoarse. ''You don't regret it.''

Luna cast her eyes away; and that was when she sighed and said: ''Our life  _is_  survival, Madi. I cannot say I regret his death when it was  _his_  death that continued  _ours._ But, I suppose—I wished the circumstances were different. I regret that the debacle started even.''

Madi was silent. And soft, ever so softly, she murmured a quiet  _okay._ And under her breath, she whispered: ''T-thank you.''

Luna nodded and closed her eyes. Clearing her throat, she said: ''Any more questions?''

There were. There were so many,  _too much,_ all of them about the pasts and all of them were the questions she didn't want to ask. Under her breath, she murmured: ''There's one. It's about  _brother_.'' Flickered an uneasy eye away. Luna took in a slow breath; she couldn't meet Madi's eyes. ''H-he died in the Conclave.  _Y_ - _you_  killed him. Is that right?'' she said, almost desperately, and Luna's voice was stuck in her throat.

''I did,'' she breathed out, and Madi almost seemed to shrink into herself. ''And this I can tell you, with all the truth in my heart—that I regret killing him.'' And Madi looked up, looked at Luna,  _something_  glistening in her expression.

''Y-you say you regret it. But he's still  _d-dead_ ,'' she whispered, and as hoarse as it were, as bitter as it were, she still said it, because she couldn't stand it, couldn't stand  _this_  Luna anymore. This Luna that spoke with the truth, but she—she didn't  _want_ to hear the truth. This Luna that apologised, but wasn't  _sorry_ for what she did, what she said.  _This_  Luna that spoke of regret but  _didn't_  regret all the same.

''You're right,'' Luna said, and Madi looked up. ''He is still dead. And though I harbour regret over his death; perhaps I repent it even, but I do not regret what his death  _let us do.''_

Madi seemed surprised, but soon, it was gone. And that was when Lexa cleared her throat, and said, quietly: ''But I do not regret that he died for  _your_   _survival_. You know that, don't you?'' she said softly, and Madi's gaze turned away to the side.

''He died because he made a choice. And it is only in a utopia which I wish we did not have to die for survival anymore—but it is not a utopia which we live in,'' and this she gave a bitter smile. ''It is not a utopia we live in, and so, others must die for us to live.''

Madi didn't speak, and Luna's grin, still bitter, still rueful, resided in her features. ''But brother made a choice.'' she exhaled. ''He let me live so I could save you. Knew that if he killed me, then Lexa wouldn't've hesitated to murder him. So I won that fight,'' she smiled wistfully, and though it was a smile it  _wasn't_ all the same, ''And Lexa let me go.''

It was quiet, for a moment, until Luna spoke again. ''But our parents had got to you first. Had smuggled you out of Polis; left for Lowouda Kilion Kru. Our Mother's home.'' A slow chuckle overcame her. ''Thus he died for nothing, but my survival. And so, I left for Floukru… and the rest is history.''

There was nothing. And then hoarsely, almost silent, so quiet Luna almost couldn't decipher it herself, Madi said: ''So do you regret at all?''

Luna was bewildered. And with that, Madi trudged away from the living room back to her own quarters, as Luna closed her eyes, and let her sister go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought about the entire situation? About Madi and Luna -- do you think Madi was right? About asking Luna about everything? And what about Luna? Do you think she was telling the truth?
> 
> Thank you!


	57. Verity

Lexa did not forget about a shadow.

She had never. Not when Madi had cried of it; confided to her in it; and she, in turn, had seen the shadow herself, when she'd fallen into that pit and was left with nothing but a sea of stars above her head and a pair of screaming arms that just wanted her to let go and release the pain from her head.

It was Emerson, she had told herself. Emerson that was the shadow; that set up the trap. Emerson that lied about his resource stolen and had denied of his involvement of it all. Emerson, she'd told herself when she found those tracks near Floukru. Blamed it all on the Maunon because they were an easy scapegoat.

It had always been on her mind. And she had warded it off; when Luna appeared and stolen all their resource; her blood-relation to Madi that wiped away the crime—yet she knew there was more to the story than the surface. Especially after their talk, that fueled her suspicions further when Luna refused to speak of anything regarding the close-past—and when Luna said it?

She should not have been surprised. And she was not; not really. But she had let herself be ignorant. Let herself forget about the shadow and let herself dream; especially after the talk with Madi, especially when she told her that they could be better. Had hoped, even. Despite herself; despite her mind and sanity pounding the opposite; but she had hoped— too much in this bedraggled land.

Now? She wished she didn't know it at all; but those words would be a lie, because, in some sense or another, she'd known all along.

(Because past sins should've died with the dead.)

And chances were that there played five survivors in this game.

One dead. Buried in a valley that they'd tried to forget.

Three of them. Clarke. Lexa herself. And Madi; a child that had not a care in the world until the world manifested its ugliness and its slick black heart unto her.

And her. Luna. The mastermind behind this mess.

Lexa wished she did not know. Perhaps wished Emerson and the shadow was one in same; hoped that there was not another survivor to further muddle the mess. Yet, in some way or another, she had known all along, in her heart. So did it matter?

Because Luna was still alive; she was responsible for the trap that nearly killed her, as she was for robbing them of a resource thus leaving them for dead; and what more could be said?

**…**

''I would like to talk about Luna.'' Lexa said once the door creaked shut. She faced Clarke, who seemed visibly alert after she had said the first sentence. Clearing her throat, she said: ''What should we do about her?''

''… I don't know,'' Clarke replied truthfully. She didn't know what else to say. Not after that admission. Not after knowing that not only Luna had stolen their supplies, raided their abode, and took most, if not all of their food while they were gone, but knowing that she was also responsible for the entire situation that involved Carl Emerson only a year ago?

She didn't even know what to think. If it wasn't for the resources they took from Becca's Lab, and their berry-farm, they would be dead already. And they hadn't even begun to talk about Emerson and the misunderstanding that became so apparent now.

Luna was  _dangerous_ —a manipulator, a thief, a liar, and a murderer on top of it all. And yet those were not her worst qualities—no, it was because she was a  _survivor,_ and the boundless lines which she would cross to live. It was only logical that they had Luna leave. For it was a matter of survival, nothing else and nothing more.

But this… this was Madi's  _sister_  they were talking about. The sister she loved, mourned, and her true  _family_ , so to speak. And even if Luna did take all their supplies,  _even_   _if_  Luna was responsible for the entire trap-debacle and everything else that had followed, they couldn't exactly  _kick her out_ because, of course, they had Madi to consider.

''Luna is Madi's blood,'' Lexa murmured, voicing both their thoughts. ''She… we cannot leave her outside of Shallow Valley to fend for her own.''

The unspoken words hung over both of them like a murky cloud.  _Even if she basically left us for dead. Even if she nearly killed us with her trap._

Clarke sighed. ''And even if we did—there's no telling how Madi would react. She'd definitely be angry at us. Probably hate us, too, come to think about it. A-and she's too impulsive,'' she said with another low sigh. ''Kicking Luna out isn't an option.''

And then, Lexa's thoughts turned to survival. They could live with Luna, couldn't they? It was similar to Madi's situation—stealing food, raiding their rations and whatnot—and when she thought about it that way, perhaps she could understand. But it  _wasn't_ , all the same. Luna had raided everything that was of use, left them obviously for  _dead_. Not a single scrap was left behind. And when all anyone cared about was survival now—what's to say that she wouldn't do it again?

And that was without the consideration of the situation with Carl Emerson before. The trap and the blaming they had done before. And though Lexa did not know how much of an extent Luna knew of it—she knew that Luna had known  _enough._

Lexa didn't know who Luna  _was,_ not anymore. Was she the anger-fuelled, power-hungry Nightblood that Lexa had known far too well once a long time ago? Was she seeking peace, like she did when she established Floukru? Or was she desperate for survival, for revenge, and would be willing to go by any means to do it?

Lexa's throat constricted. ''One week. Luna stays for a week. For Madi. And afterwards, we decide.''  _What happens after._

Clarke sighed but nodded her agreement. ''Alright, then. A week.''

…

_I told them._

_Spirits, I told them. They know I knew of their survival before; they know the role I've played in the moose-trap. Came out an accident; and though I did not mean it, a part of me knew it was eventual._

_I explained her everything._

_It would be far too simple for the universe to let my sister and I live without cost, wouldn't it?_

…

''Madi? Are you feeling alright?''

Madi whirled around from looking at the wall of her room to face Lexa, who had come into the room with a creak. She seemed concerned as she moved into the room, and Madi had swallowed, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

''I…'' Madi swallowed. She could lie. Could tell Lexa that she was feeling fine, that everything was alright, Despite after everything that's happened; despite Luna's admission and her nonexistent  _regret_ to things that she should've regretted, things she thought Luna regretted but didn't regret.

Lexa was still looking at her. Her posture seemed to relax a little, and the tension from her shoulders seemed to lessen. It was almost like Lexa was telling her that it was okay, that Madi could talk to her about it. Even when it wasn't.

She could say it was okay. But it won't be true. So with wet shining in her eyes, Madi choked out the words: ''… no.''

Lexa's shoulders tightened again as she gripped the wheels and moved towards Madi. And once she let go of the wheels; Lexa hugged her, held Madi tight against her chest, and Madi sobbed in her arms. Immersing herself in a warmth that wouldn't let go.

That had let go far too quickly.

''Tell me a story,'' Madi whispered, her eyes wet; from the memories she wanted to forget, from the spun tale that couldn't be taken back; from the life—the one life—she had once wished so badly  _for_ , but now wished never was. ''Please.''

Lexa obliged.

…

_There was once a Commander that went by the name of Verity._

_Verity? What—what type of name's that?_

_I do not know either. But their definition of it was truth; at least, it is what she tells me in my head. It was not her true name; yet, it was what her people called her by._

_Okay. So k-kind of like how y-you call me goufa or Natblida or how Clarke called me Bear Trap Kid back then?_

_Yes._

_S-still hate that name._

_Concentrate. Back to the tale, Madi._

_Okay._

_Her descendants have called her name ironic. For verity was truth; and Verity was a spy that swore no lies._

_A spy? No lies? H-how does that even work?_

_She told the truth. Most of it. Other lies were weaved; fabricated into her own reality. That was how she kept her name._

_But w-why did you guys even need a spy back then? What the heck was happening?_

_There was a war. It was an outrageous one; spanned miles and involved many of the Clans. Lowouda was one of them. Sankru was another. There were alliances; but there was one Clan unstoppable, towered over them all with its newfound ambush tactics and warfare weaponry—Trikru._

_Wait. Trikru? Isn't that your Clan? Wouldn't that mean… Lexa, w-why are you tellin' me this?_

_Just because Trikru was my Clan doesn't mean I have to agree with all of its history, Madi. And that particular part is not one I'm proud of my people for._

_Oh._

_Verity… had gone under the Trikru enemy lines and convinced them she was one of them. And once they'd fallen to sleep, already drunken with tomorrow's incoming victory—she slipped away and killed off our best warriors in their sleep. Burned down the war plans, our tents, and left the rest for dead._

_Wait. Lexa, t-that's pretty bad. How'd you—Trikru even forgive her for it? An' made an alliance with her Clan? What Clan is she even from?_

_Louwoda._

_Oh._

_And you forget. It has been decades ago. Trikru… and Louwoda— we mended bonds. The past is in the past, Madi. My stint as Commander was to unite us all together; and that means leaving our pasts behind._

_… But mending bonds doesn't count as forgiveness for the past._

_So—so did you forgive her for it? Forgive her for what she's done to your people? To everyone she's left dead and slaughtered behind?_

_Forgiveness… is a necessity when you are Commander. If we wish to reconcile; to unite; to become better. I… had to forgive Azgeda, for murdering my former love and delivering her head to me on my bed. I had to forgive in the sole reason to unite, for our future to be better; jus drein jus daun was our motto, but it was jus no drein jus daun that was mine._

_But Lexa, you didn't really forgive them, right? Cause you can't forgive them for that. For the things they've done. Can't just forget that. Can you?_

_I still think about Costia. If that was what you enquire. And all I could've done to Azgeda and the Ice Queen for taunting me with her death—everything I could've avenged for, I could; for I was Commander, I was vengeful, and had an army in my stead. I could've done much to avenge._

_But you didn't?_

_I didn't._

_Back to Verity. Because of the role she's played in war, she had become Commander. The Clans had celebrated her life and her deeds—others, they made excuses for what she's done._

_Excuses? B-but how can they? It's people killed. Families gone._

_She did what had to be done for survival— was what they had come up with. In itself is a form of indirect forgiveness for what she's done._

_People forgave her? Forgave her how?_

_None of them forgave her directly, Madi. Couldn't—not with the knowledge of what she had done, despite it being for survival. Didn't forgive, but made excuses. Excuses; so they could forgive her what she had done._

_Should they have forgiven her?_

_No. But people reviled her for what she's done, and though nowadays it is easy to say it isn't right—back then was different. And I can't fault them for their thinking—for if you defeated the enemy, then would you not be right?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought! Especially about Lexa/Madi's conversation. And I have a question— Are excuses a form of forgiveness?
> 
> Thank you!


	58. Quid Pro Quo

After the talk, Lexa had extinguished the flickering candle and left Madi's room. Madi didn't ask where she went—maybe it was the pressure sores again, or something else, but she had other things to think about.

She was left to her thoughts—and for a long while, Madi couldn't sleep, thinking about it all. Until finally, a sense of peace fell over her mind like a black blanket of the night.

In the end, she thought, it didn't really matter anyway. Because no matter what conclusion she came to the days still marched on and the stars still twinkled on in the night, that couldn't be extinguished like how Lexa snuffed out the candle. And her thoughts shouldn't be her biggest concern right now—because what was most important now was  _sleeping._

It felt like how the sun rises and the night sets—everything that'd gone in a circle, that trudged on no matter what was in between. And though Madi still thought—she couldn't  _not_ think about it after all—it felt comforting. And soon, she let the thoughts, fleeting and quick, float through her mind—but she didn't think about it and let it be, and soon, Madi fell asleep.

…

_Died in a blaze._

_Because she dared avenge; her family, murdered in a massacre because she dared become Commander._

_She didn't forgive her people for what they've done to her family._

_(But if they were still alive—would her family forgive her for what she's done?)_

_(To avenge them?)_

_Died in a blaze they said, yet Lexa said it was nothing of the kind—found dead in her chambers, blood leaking from her neck with a blade tossed to the side— the perpetrator they couldn't identify._

_Her name—_

_Maddie the Commander._

…

Madi thought about it.

Luna did regret. But the things she regretted wasn't the things that Madi wished she'd regret. And her regret didn't  _cover_  nearly all of what she was supposed to regret—it was as if instead of tucking someone in with the entire blanket, they only tucked them in with a quarter. It was regret, but it  _wasn't_  regret, not really—or, at least, it wasn't  _total regret._

But did people regret things differently when they were surviving?

And it was in that moment, when she thought about it, thought about it for minutes, agonised long and hard, played with her trebuchet in an attempt to feel less frustrated about the question, until finally, she came to a conclusion, and told herself—they did. Of course they did. Because how else would they survive? How else would they live with the knowledge of all the bad things they've done during their  _survival_? How—how else would they  _justify_  themselves to other people?

Like Clarke. Clarke—Clarke didn't seem to regret the Maunon's deaths. Didn't seem to regret all the people she had to kill—didn't seem to regret Carl Emerson or anybody else. And Madi didn't get it, not at first—because how could she  _regret_  but not  _forgive_? How could she  _regret_  but not  _regret,_ not entirely? And now she thought, and thought again—it was because at that moment Clarke was surviving, and survival was a different persona entirely.

And Lexa. Lexa was the Commander. She slaughtered thousands; killed everyone, at least  _almost_ , everyone, in the Conclave… so she could live. So she could  _survive_. She must've regretted it, in some form or another—had shown it even, in form of the tattoos on her back, but it wasn't total regret, because total regret would mean that she regretted her survival as well. But she didn't, she didn't have survival's guilt—or even if she did, she didn't show it, or had gotten over it, or didn't dwell on it at all—because, because the two lives, the two personas of survival and non-survival had to be kept separate, because if they intertwined with each other then that'd mean an entire reevaluation of themselves. And eventually, eventually, Lexa would've stopped feeling guilty over it as well, because it was what she needed to do to survive.

And that—that would mean the same, for Luna.

Luna… Luna's crimes paled in comparison to what Clarke and Lexa did, while they were  _surviving._ But it wasn't the degree of the crimes that had shaken her—but it was the things that Luna  _did_ , that was so, so close to Madi's heart, that hurt her the most. Killing their brother, and it was because if she didn't she would die, and inadvertently for Madi's survival too. Causing the entire debacle between Emerson and Clarke & Lexa, which she regretted, which she  _seemed_ to regret—because it was an accident, because she was just trying to survive when she caught Lexa in that trap, because it wasn't the outcome that she'd expected to come from it, because it didn't affect her survival, not really— but did it? And there was stealing their resources, which, if Madi were to take it in as a whole, Luna seemed to regret the most, because in her eyes she'd nearly killed Madi  _because_  she wanted to survive. She did it, did it  _all_ while she was surviving.

And if the person surviving was a different persona from the person itself entirely… then, perhaps, perhaps Madi could understand—even if it was so little, so small—but she understood all the same. But therein lied her question.

But when would someone use an excuse—the excuse of  _survival_ —to justify the mass murders, the killings? When would someone go off at someone else, when would someone kill someone else, when would—when would someone do all the evils that they could do in the world, and still be forgiven, because it was under the guise of  _survival?_

And the thing that worried her the most was—she didn't, couldn't know for sure, wouldn't know if any of them were doing the exact same thing, right now.

…

''The Maunon? Again?''

''Yeah.'' Clarke said, heaving breaths as she forced herself up against the bed. Her head pounded; her sweat was clammy. God, she didn't want to remember.

Lexa was already up, as Clarke tried to regulate her breathing. ''Was I there again?''

''Y-yeah. But it wasn't just you.''

Lexa's eyes flickered towards her in concern, as Clarke swallowed thickly. ''Madi was there too.''

This time, it was Lexa's turn to swallow. Clarke closed her eyes. ''Pulled it.''

The residual words had lingered in the air _. Don't regret it._

Her nightmares seemed frequent these past days. And though Lexa usually wouldn't  _worry_ —it had seemed especially bad these past few.

In an attempt to turn Clarke's mind away from her nightmare, Lexa cleared her throat and said, unusually loudly: ''About Luna.''

That had broken Clarke from her reverie, as she looked up at Lexa, alertness aroused in her no-longer tired features.

''She still hasn't returned our resources,'' Lexa said grimly, as she turned a glance around their barren room. ''Not even so long after discovering Madi's presence with us in this abode.''

It was suspicious. That was obvious. Luna had no reason not to return it—if anything, she had more reason now that she realised her sister was with them. Yet Clarke's lips quirked, as she drawled: ''Can't imagine why.''

They fell into a lapse of silence for a while, until Clarke's eyebrows quirked and then she abruptly started again, as if just stumbling upon a realisation.

''Our resources, Lexa. We don't have much left.''

''Mainly because of Luna,'' Lexa muttered, raising a slight eyebrow at Clarke's words. ''However, she has been bringing us fish these past few days.''

Clarke raised an eyebrow. ''Yes, but—'' then, she sighed. ''Lexa, she's got our weapons, medical resources, candles, and the rest of our stuff—and you know what? I don't even care about that. What I meant  _is_  the food. All of it's basically  _gone—_ save for some from Madi and Luna's hunts. And I don't think I like that at all.''

''What do you mean?''

''Now our food sources come from  _her. Luna._ We're cut off from all our old supplies—the berries are mostly gone, we've got no ration packets left, and that means we're relying on Luna for our food. And seeing that she's a thief and a murderer… I'd be lying if I said it wasn't  _dangerous.''_

''You're right, Clarke,'' Lexa said, clearing her throat. ''But we can't exactly ask Madi's kin to go away. And we've given her a week's time.''

''To prove herself?''

Lexa nodded slightly.

''Even if she's the reason you nearly died?'' Clarke said, and the statement was tinged with bitter rue.

''I was the reason why she nearly died many times in survival, Clarke.''

''I know,'' Clarke said. ''But that's not answering my question, Lexa.''

''What's over is over,'' Lexa replied sullenly. ''There is—there is nothing more to say.''

Clarke hefted a breath and glanced towards Lexa. Something played on her lips; sad, smiling. ''Do you believe that?''

 _I have to._ But Lexa didn't say that; so, she didn't respond and looked away at an abode and outside the windows— to a place that once was.

Then, almost an afterthought, Clarke quirked an eyebrow at Lexa, turning to face her as she got up from the bed. ''How's your legs?''

''Sores are better now,'' Lexa murmured, as she glanced over her legs. ''It hurts less. Swelling has gone down.''

''Good,'' Clarke breathed out. But she had seemed troubled after that, which did nothing to ease Lexa's sudden tension at Clarke's expression. ''I… Lexa, I think we've got to talk. About your legs.''

Lexa felt herself stiffen, as she looked sharply up. ''What about it?''

''I-I was thinking. About the sores—the pain, the spasms,'' Clarke listed off, and Lexa tilted her head in curiosity. ''—and I've realised that there's still a lot I don't know about your condition.''

Lexa didn't respond but inclined her head again. There were quite some words on her tounge—of how Clarke didn't need to know everything about her condition, for example, and that Lexa certainly wouldn't expect it of her, or how in it all, did it really matter anyway?— but she bit it back, as she waited for Clarke's follow up.

Clarke seemed troubled. ''I… I don't know if your pain—if it's progressive or not. Or what to do with ulcers. Or if your muscle spasms are normal or if they've come and changed because of things like sclerosis, or because of a cyst forming or something.''

''If it helps any,'' Lexa said, ''The recent spasticity was similar to one another. Rapid contractions and extending of legs. Muscle tone hasn't changed much. I don't believe there were new symptoms of recent.''

''I'll probably have to write that down,'' Clarke responded. But then, after a while, as she rummaged around for a notebook or something (and then, abruptly realising that Luna had taken it all), Clarke sighed. ''But that's my point. I know virtually nothing. And it worries me because we've got no resources or medical support really—and I don't know, if the worst comes to the worst, how to deal with it.''

''We'll cross the bridge if it comes to that,'' Lexa said, a slight something forming on her lips. Then, she straightened her back. '' _Ba os sonop_ , Clarke,'' she said, which caused Clarke to raise an eyebrow. ''We have better things to do with the day.''

And with that, she left the room, leaving Clarke blinking behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack, sorry for the late + short-ish chapter! But I've edited the scenes here twice and some more and finally I decided I'm done. So, yeah. :') Also had to sort out the rest of the fic so that everything makes sense, hopefully this suffices.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	59. Renascence

It had been a while since Luna's admission.

They didn't talk about it—no one did, not at first. Lexa had avoided Luna especially, and Madi couldn't really blame her about it. After all, if she basically caused of the pain she'd suffered in the fall, and the result of why Lexa had to basically replace her wheelchair with lots of parts that didn't necessarily work as well as the original, then Madi wouldn't be a bit pissed, too.

But it had been a while since that was admitted, and since Luna was open about it—and didn't seem to hide anything else, or at least, didn't try to—it had settled some of the tension that was between all of them.

And Madi—Madi could understand, at least, a little, from the perspective Luna came from. Sure, there was a lot better she could've done, and sure, she could've tried to do things differently—but she also kind of understood why. The fear of getting into something you inadvertently caused and having to deal with the consequences of it. And if you could get away with it scot free, then why not?

Madi had been trying to forgive Luna—at least, began to, a little. And though it was little, though sometimes it had felt so infinitely small, sometimes little was enough for now.

Little was enough for now.

...

Madi didn't really talk to Luna.

It had been more than a few days since Luna had spoken of the trap, and since then, she hadn't said much of a word or two at her elder sister. Though she still did  _speak,_ of course—it was impossible to do without, in a world where there were only three others than you alive—she was a lot more reluctant and a bit less enthusiastic than she had once been with Luna.

She was still enthusiastic, of course. Who could  _not_ be enthusiastic about a sister magically returning from the dead? But her enthusiasm had died some, and most of it was expressed while writing down things in her notebook—stories, which, lived in a world where Luna was just her sister and wasn't someone who had stolen things, who wasn't responsible for a trap, where they weren't burdened by their pasts.

But she still didn't speak much. Mostly, it was largely due to what she'd learnt, or more eloquently—due to her finally facing the truth that had been shining in her face for so long, but had turned a blind eye to. Their only conversations had usually only been about survival, and that was the barest it had been to.

That was until Madi had inadvertently witnessed Luna fight.

She was only strolling along, since she was on a quick water-fetching errand for Lexa—hurrying two steps away faster when she saw Luna out of the corner of her eye, until she noticed what  _exactly_ Luna was doing—she was twisting the spear around her, up and down and around and like she was doing some sort of performance, which had stopped Madi right in her tracks.

Curiosity ignited in her, Madi had taken a closer look.

Luna had been practising fighting stances, twirling with the spear in-hand, and pushing on defensive and on the offensive as well, fighting an imaginary opponent that would've been eviscerated if they were real—flowing through the stances so seamlessly that Madi could hardly see the change that was happening.

She blinked—almost as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Luna used the spear like it was a part of her, flowing with ease and simplicity that Madi couldn't even  _begin_ to understand. It was as if the spear was an extra hand, an extension of her arm that was used as one would their hands and fingers. It was surreal to watch, and even surreally to see happen.

Luna must've noticed her watching because she had stopped. Walked up to her, and Madi was stuck in between just leaving or muttering an excuse as to why she had to go, but she found herself rooted to the spot, her eyes fixated on Luna, and the spear that was in her hand.

And that was, as Luna looked at Madi's face to the transfixion in her eyes when Luna offered: ''I can teach you.''

…

_''Long arms are superior to shorter arms. It does not matter how well-hearsed the wielder is. Spear beats sword.''_

Those were Luna's words, every time Madi approached the weaponsrack and picked her weapon. Madi closed her eyes and felt the spear roll in her hands. She took a breath and opened to meet Luna's piercing brown eyes.

_Spear, not sword. This's a spear now._

She readied her stance; felt her foot on the ground. Gripped the spear tightly in her hand; left, right, placed her foot one in front of the other. Faced Luna on the opposite side of their arena.

_''A spear is versatile and deadly. Remember—whenever the opponent makes a mistake, you have to go in for the punish. Spears are accurate, and can do so at a high speed.''_

Fire seemed to blaze in Luna's eyes. Her spear ready in her hand; she nodded upwards towards Madi. Madi let out a breath, two, and positioned herself a step backwards, her spear in front of her, pointed at Luna.

_''You need to keep your opponents at_ **_distance_ ** _. Not surge towards them. If they come too close, you cannot use your spear effectively. Learn how to backtrack your steps quickly, without sacrificing your balance.''_

Madi's weight shifted underneath her. She felt the stubborn ground against her back leg, and she hefted the spear.  _Any second now._

_''The spear's long reach is what makes it a great weapon in combat. However, its versatility means that it can be utilised in multiple ways—especially when it comes to a good spearman.''_

Luna came in flying. Flurries of movement, so quick and deft and agile that Madi barely had the time to block. She got in hits—hits, which, though were held-back, still hurt, and it was all Madi could do to grit her teeth and not cry. She stumbled backwards; and in the back of her mind, she wondered:  _was Luna even holding back?_

_''The weakness of the spear is not its reach—but when you enter close-combat. The opponent—and I repeat—the opponent_ **_cannot_ ** _reach past the point of the spear. Once that is done, all one has to do is to knock the pole away, and there is nothing you can do to defend yourself.''_

Madi's palms were sweaty against the spear pole, as she stumbled backwards. Luna had retreated; took a few steps back to where Madi's starting position was, her spear extended, pointed towards Madi, who had her spear pointed out as well and was panting with exertion.

_''Don't forget to bait the opponent into an attack which you can quickly punish. Feign an opening to lure them in. And then you counter-attack.''_

Madi let her form hang from her uselessly, her spear shoddily moving in her hands. Her legs were wide-open.

_''You cannot have the opponent grab your spear. Once they do; you are dead.''_

She saw Luna lick her lips, and she saw a blaze of brown. Madi forced a block. She feinted left, spear going with her, and suddenly, there was a force tugging the spear away, as Madi pulled back equally so; but she had stumbled once it was wrenched from her grasp. She stood there, a moment stunned as she looked down at her empty hands—just enough for Luna to finish the fight, the tip of the spearhead under her chin.

''You didn't capitalise on your bait,'' was what Luna said before she moved the spear away from under Madi's throat. She pushed a drop of sweat away—and that made Madi close her eyes.  _Only a drop of sweat?!_

''I know,'' Madi mumbled, as she looked at the spear that had laid on the ground. It seemed to only have stopped rolling, the spear tethering by both sides. She might've baited, sure, but Luna was too quick, too  _agile_ for her to actually do  _anything_ about it. So all in one, Madi basically gave Luna the pathway to winning with that  _bait._

Luna picked up the spear, which jolted Madi out of her sulking reverie. She tested the spear in her hand. ''Fighting with a spear uses quite an interesting tactic; you would need to keep a steady hold on it, and make sure to keep your spear trained on the opponent— for you cannot give your opponent any openings—for even if it is an inch, or two, it can easily be avoided or batted away. And that is the worse that can happen; for though you have a weapon in hand, you cannot use it effectively—least, not as effectively as it can be used.''

Madi nodded, once, and gratefully took the spear which was offered to her. Luna dipped her head in a nod, almost in acknowledgement of Madi's feelings, and continued. ''Do not get me wrong—the spear is one of the best, if not the best weapon one could use in close-combat. However, it is hard to master, which is why only a few use it effectively.''

Madi nodded, as Luna helped her adjust her grip on her spear. Then, her hands on top of Madi's, she manoeuvred the spear so it pointed to where a wood trunk was.

''Try to throw it.''

Madi nodded tightly. Tested the spear in her hands.

''Grip it. Try and heft it; make sure you can lift it smoothly.''

There was a breath, and the spear was lifted.

''Throw!''

''Good, Madi.'' Luna breathed, as she took a glance at where the spear had sunk into the wood. Madi exhaled a few breaths, panting, even as relief crossed her eyes. ''That is good.''

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgot to put this in the last AN, but the reason I was a day late was cause I went camping for the weekends. but here's the chapter now! 
> 
> let me know what you thought! :)


	60. Entreaties

_5 DAYS LATER…_

''That is a well-crafted one,'' Luna said, as she examined the spear that Madi had so eagerly placed in front of her. ''But the knots could be improved. You should use a double clove-hitch instead to secure the spearhead—it is secure, and can be easily removed should the spearhead be blunted.''

Madi nodded excitedly, and despite it all— hung onto Luna's every single word as if it were a Heda that was making their speech instead of an elder sister who was teaching her how to make the best spear, as she intently took all of it in. ''Okay!'' she said, and when Luna held out the spear, Madi snatched from her hands excitedly, all too eager to make Luna's suggested improvements for it.

Although it had been less than a week since Luna had admitted to, well,  _everything_  she had done while she was in Shallow Valley, Madi had soon grown back close to Luna. It wasn't exactly a surprise—after all, Luna  _was_ Madi's long-lost sister, and Madi was somewhat eager to forgive, and even more so to ignore and forget their pasts. After all, if it was done and gone, then what could they do about it anymore anyway?

Perhaps maybe Clarke and Lexa were a lot less enthusiastic about it, but they couldn't decide what  _she_ thought. Especially when it was her sister they were talking about.

 _Especially_.

Madi  _still_  couldn't believe it. But, well, that was kind of a false statement, because after the days have passed, things definitely have shifted in her head a little bit. Perhaps she might've hoped that it was fake, that it was a dream—so at least  _then_ she wouldn't need to think about the bad things Luna had done, at least  _then_  Luna would've been preserved in her mind, as a teasing elder sister who played games with her and who could do no wrong, as someone who was immortal and good forever in her memory—but in a way, it kind of made her believe it a little more, after Luna had told them of all that happened—it had made it feel more  _realistic._

And even though it sucked, even if it made her feel like she wasn't in a dream anymore, it was  _real, realer than ever,_ and there was absolutely  _nothing_ that could change that, because, despite all the stuff that happened, she knew for  _sure_ she wasn't living in some fantasy anymore.

And if Luna's expression didn't  _agree_ with her, then, well, Madi was pretty sure she didn't have her head screwed on straight. But Luna  _did,_ her expression  _was exactly the same_  as hers, and Madi knew that her sister, too, didn't know if it was a dream or not, but  _couldn't_   _care_   _enough_  to wonder if she was asleep and if she should wake up, couldn't  _care_ because real was now, and  _now_ had felt realer than ever.

And even if Madi  _was_ asleep, she wasn't gonna wake up. Even with all the  _confessions_  and the  _revelations_ and the  _confirmations_ and all that, she  _wouldn't_  want to wake up. Not when everything just felt so  _real_  now, not when she felt like she was no longer in a fantasy. She  _didn't_  want to wake up, and honestly? She was definitely too  _happy_  to, despite everything that happened.

(Who knew that your sister confessing about the stuff she did after Praimfaya struck would make her happy? But Madi knew she wasn't lying, wasn't hiding behind some secrets anymore, and that it had felt so  _freeing,_ knowing that her sister wasn't hiding anything anymore. Even though the idol in her mind had been broken, she—and it felt so  _weird,_ but—Madi had felt, just a tad happy and glad, knowing that her sister wasn't some immortal goddess who could do no wrong. It made her  _real…_ and despite  _everything,_ even though Madi  _hated_  what had happened, that was something Madi cherished.)

Madi's small grin must've been obvious because Luna's lips quirked back at her and nodded upwards as if telling her to get on with fixing the spear. So, unfortunately, she had to throw down her train of thoughts for a second and gazed at the spear itself.

Rolling the spear in her hand, Madi thought of the ten different types of spears and the hundred different ways they could be made. But she probably knew only about one or two ways, and  _definitely_  was  _never_  gonna learn all of them. She wasn't like some  _spear obsessor,_ unlike that  _one_   _other_  person she knew…

Luna gave her an encouraging grin, as Madi looked up to meet her eyes. _''Snap, goufa!'_ ' she said teasingly, much to Madi's pout. ''We don't have the entire day for rest. There is hunting we have to commence after the sun strikes its highest.''

Madi and Luna's hunt. Their spear-fishing. It was a subject that they didn't  _really_ talk about, though it was  _really_ ,  _really_  important. Summer was an excruciatingly hot time (which was why Madi did  _not_ enjoy hunting as much as she should've, and also why she insisted on taking two showers despite the complete and total misusage of water), and especially added onto the fact that it was only three years since Praimfaya, the seasons was gonna be  _definitely_ a lot hotter than it should've been. It was a big reason why corpses of animals littered around the forests, and why the only source of food came from the river, and heat-adjusted mutated salmons. Three cheers for selective variation!

It was also why they usually didn't hunt for the last two years around this time. Generally, when it came to  _food in the summer,_ they would usually eat Clarke and Lexa's saved ration packets over the course of weeks until the scorching heat died down to a bearable level (still hot, but  _bearable_ ), since practically all the big-game wildlife was  _dead_. However, like how all good things had to go, they'd ran out of most of their ration packets last summer, and were  _rationing_  them until Luna came by, and, y'know, raided them all of course.

Either way, the Luna-plus-Madi Spear-Fishing Scheme was basically their unofficial plan in keeping Clarke and Lexa afloat during the summer. Sure they could spear-fish, but there were things like wheelchairs during the summers and the inconvenience and inaccessibility when it came to rocky places, an immensely tired Clarke Griffin that loathed anything that had to do with  _hot weather_ who also… wasn't all that good in the aspect of  _spear-fishing_ , the unspoken problem about... whatever was happening with Lexa right now, which Madi was kinda worried about but didn't ask cause then Clarke would know she was worried and might panic a lot because  _Lexa_ which wasn't something she wanted to happen, and that other thing about helping her sister win Clarke and Lexa over after basically breaking into their abode and raiding everything, and all that stuff that had happened with Emerson and traps and all that.

So yeah. Helping Clarke and Lexa—well, not  _like,_ but  _tolerate_  Luna? Check! Spending more time with her long-lost sister (and trying her best to understand and sympathise with what she did)? Check! Spear-fishing and eating some fresh seafood instead of some charred meat roasted by the sun? Check! It was a win-win situation for everyone!

But maybe except for Madi herself. And don't get her wrong, she was  _very much eager_ to help… but sometimes,  _she_ got tired of spear-fishing all the time too, especially with the weather bogging them down, having to repair her spears  _every single time_ and to make improvements because  _LUNA TOLD HER TO,_ and needing to hunt  _every single day_ —it was all very frustrating.

And so Madi pouted at Luna, who decidedly  _ignored_  her even though she  _VERY WELL SAW HER_ , and Madi was painfully reminded of exactly  _why_  they had so many arguments in the past.

Sighing, she glanced back at her spear and began to pick at the knot there. Meanwhile, Luna finished constructing her fourth spear and was working on her fifth for the day, while  _she_  wasn't even done with a single  _one._ Sometimes, Madi felt like her sister was some type of mythical goddess who could basically do anything and everything at  _once._

But it  _was_  true. Luna  _was_  a goddess when it came to spears. She knew how to wield them, how to make them, how to hunt with them, and most especially, how to  _fight_ with them. Madi remembered trying to fight with a spear, which had gone on for an embarrassingly long amount of time until she realised what was going on and switched it out for some much better  _daggers_. Spears were clumsy and  _so hard to wield_  in fights. Sure, it might've been an amazing hunting weapon, and Madi might've loved using them, but it didn't mean that they were good in  _everything._

Luna, however… she fought  _so well_ with the spears it was almost surreal to watch her fights and battles with them—because  _every single time_ she looked, all the dodges, the crafty side blows and the upwards strikes were all just a dance with the spears that flew with her movements. It was pretty crazy, and Madi would be lying if she didn't feel envious 'cause she  _did,_ she  _did_  want to fight like that someday, and it  _really sucked_ that she just  _didn't know HOW_.

There was probably no one Luna couldn't  _beat._ Okay, well, Madi didn't know much, but she was pretty confident in her own  _sister's_  fighting abilities. For Spirits' Sake, she beat  _Lexa_ to a standstill!  _Lexa!_

_(But then again, maybe it would be less of a standstill if Lexa could use her legs, but still. How did she even do it?!)_

Madi huffed and glared at her spear, the previous giddiness she had of it all gone. It was bad enough that she didn't know how to  _fight properly_ with it, and it was even  _worse_ now that her very own  _sister_  was this amazing, spear-wielding  _dancer,_ while Madi totally sucked at it.

Luna must've noticed Madi's turmoil because, in one stride, she moved over and knelt beside Madi, who was sulking as she glared at her spear.  _''Ai sis,''_ she said sternly but softly too, which caused Madi to look up. ''Do not believe that you cannot do it.''

Madi sighed loudly and glanced at Luna with a hint of angry sadness. Even though they were supposed to be talking about making spears, both sisters knew that they weren't on the subject anymore.

''But it's in our genes! Why am I so bad at fightin' with it!''

''Technique—is not in our genes,'' Luna said smoothly, as she looked on a morose Madi. ''Neither is practice. But your willpower is always there. It only matters whether if you decide to put it in full thrust, or not.''

''I've tried!'' Madi said, nearly exasperated. ''I really did. I've fought with—with the spear before. With Clarke n' Lexa. But every time I-I just get knocked down. A lot. A-and I thought it was typical, u-until I saw  _you._ Dancin' with your spear a-an'  _fighting_ with it l-like it's a walk in the park.''

Madi gazed up at Luna desperately, almost trying to find answers. Luna blinked, once, twice, almost bewildered. But then she chuckled, and  _that_  broke Madi out of her haze.

''I  _dance_  with the spear because it has been a decade since I mastered the craft. And even now, I would not say I have mastered it—I have merely improved.'' She chuckled again. ''It was never a  _walk in the park,_ so to speak, Madi. With time comes practice, and with practice comes time. Fighting, as you would know, is a learned skill. Fighting with any weapon is a learned skill as well.''

Madi sighed. ''I-I know, but i-isn't there some way where you don't have to try? A-at least not as hard? D-does it get easier?''

Luna chuckled again. ''Nothing ever worth it comes without trying, Madi. And yes—'' she said and smiled a slow smile. ''— it only becomes harder, when you come to a realisation of how little you have touched, and how much more you need to learn.''

Madi seemed slightly discouraged at her words. However, Luna extended a hand and smiled kindly at her. ''Come now, _ai sis_. I will teach you.''

Madi took her arm. Getting up, Luna nodded to her to follow her out of the abode. Madi was about halfway towards the exit until she turned back, ran back to where she was constructing spears, picked up her spear, and quickly undid and redid the knot on the spear, this time making a clove-hitch. And with a yell for Luna to  _wait up,_ she burst out of the abode without a look back.

…

''We need to talk about Luna, Madi.''

Madi crossed her arms and glared to the best of her ability at Clarke. ''If you've got somethin' bad to say about her, then _don't say anythin_ ','' she said, and huffing, she glared at Clarke with a sulking-laced pout.

Clarke swallowed a sigh and tried again. ''It's just the truth.'' And when Madi, miraculously,  _didn't_  stalk off at Clarke's words but stared at her with a sulk and an angry pout, Clarke said: ''We need to talk about her stealing our supplies.''

''She's just  _survivin',''_ Madi mumbled and glanced away.

Clarke bit back a sigh. ''Yes, but—''

''Y-can't blame her for  _survivin',_ Clarke!'' Madi  _yelled_ , and  _that_  had startled Clarke. ''It's just what w-we  _all_ do. You did it, when y-you pulled levers t-to save your people. Lexa did it, when s-she tortured Carl to save  _you_.''

Clarke's mouth was open in a gape, until she closed it. Then, her eyes hardened, and Madi felt her posture shift stiffly. ''Y-you shouldn't know that,'' she said coldly, and now  _she_  was the one glaring at Madi.

Madi returned her glare. ''Y-you wanted to destroy the recorder, didn't you? T-that footage o-of the torture? S-so I wouldn't find out?'' And at Clarke's bafflement— ''I'm not stupid, Clarke.'' she sniffled out. ''I-I might be just a  _kid,_ but I-I'm not  _stupid.''_

Clarke heaved back a sigh. ''Madi…'' she began softly, but Madi stubbornly looked away. ''… I-I never wanted to hide anything from you. Trust me. We—I and Lexa—we thought it would be best.''

''Best? L-Like hiding  _1,200_  people from me for three years?! Or—or not tellin' me about the Mansion or the Lab o-or Carl or your pasts?!'' Madi burst out, upset, and Clarke couldn't meet her eyes. ''T-that's for t-the  _best_ for me? _''_

Clarke couldn't swallow. So instead, she took a breath and returned to meet Madi's eyes. ''We—we were gonna tell you when the time was right. When you'd grown up and understood more. So you don't end up acting up like  _this,''_ she said. ''So you don't end up trying to do things that are  _right_ to you, but not to  _us_! Not to us, who are just trying to  _survive!_ ''

Madi swallowed something thick back into her throat. ''S-so you're blamin' it on me now?'' she said, and though it was supposed to be indignant it came out hoarse.

Clarke sighed and knelt down to meet Madi's eye level. Madi's eyes flickered away when she realised what Clarke was doing when she took two of Madi's hands in hers, but she didn't resist. ''I—I didn't mean it that way,'' she attempted, but Madi still looked away. ''I just want you to be  _careful._ You're  _surviving,_ Madi,'' she said, voice hoarse, and Madi's eyes flicked back to look at her. ''— And I get it, y-you want to bring the best out of everyone, but we can't do that  _now._ Not when s-she's still  _dangerous_.''

''You're dangerous,'' Madi said flatly, and Clarke nearly jolted back, pulled her hands away from Madi's hands. ''You killed hundreds. Lexa probably thousands. Luna just stole your stuff—'' and before Clarke could rebuke, ''— and I get why. You're all trying to survive. All I'm sayin' is… y-you're the same.''

Clarke bit back a sigh. '' _And_ , all I'm trying to say is, you have to be careful, Madi.'' And before Madi could look away— ''In your eyes, Luna might not be dangerous— and I get it, because she's your  _sister—but you can't forget what she's done.''_ A breath and Madi didn't meet her eyes. ''You can't forget that she's taken all our resources. You can't forget about the  _trap._ You can't forget about  _Emerson—_ ''

''She was survivin'!'' Madi yelled out, and it broke Clarke out of her words. ''S-she was j-just survivin'! Like all of us! L-like you both! A-an'… y-you c-can't blame her for that! Not when  _you've_  done the same as her—probably  _even worse—_ and I-I was  _okay_  with that! E-even when you killed Carl  _an_ '  _hid_  1,200 people th-that were  _alive_ from me an' didn't tell m-me about the  _torture_ , I was o-okay with that! S-so why  _shouldn't_  I be okay about Luna?!''

Clarke heaved a quick breath. ''That's the thing, Madi. You  _shouldn't_  be. We're still surviving  _now_ ,'' Clarke said swiftly and looked at Madi in the eyes, who seemed to finally understand what she was saying, as reluctant as it was. ''I did bad things. Lexa did bad things. Luna—Luna did do,  _does do_  bad things as well.  _Surviving—_  that's the most dangerous thing we can all ever be.''

Madi was quiet; she didn't meet Clarke's eyes. With one careful sigh, she said: ''I'm just asking you to be careful.''

''I-I'll keep it in mind,'' Madi mumbled, and she looked away.

''Promise me,'' Clarke said, nearly desperately at Madi who looked away, because she needed her to understand, needed her to understand why she was doing this.

Madi's eyes flickered away, And then it came back, met Clarke's pleading eyes. In a whisper, she said: ''I-I promise.''

''Good. That's all I wanted to ask.''

With that, she left, leaving Madi to look at the yearning, open door that creaked in Clarke's wake.


	61. Human Inhumanity

''You should probably give back our resources,'' Clarke muttered, crossing her arms as she glared at Luna from the counter.

No, Clarke didn't trust Luna. Madi might've trusted her—and okay, Clarke could get it, sister and all—but she wasn't related to Luna by blood. And after the days passed, it was almost if they'd forgotten about what Luna had done. Nearly killing Lexa? No, that didn't matter at all.

Survival. Madi had justified Luna's doing with survival. And Clarke could've understood; and she supposed, that with Madi's reasoning, it might not have  _mattered_ when they all justified their doings with it as well _—_  but with Luna, it was recent. It threatened  _theirs. Their survival_ and that made Luna an enemy.

Their excuse for survival had turned onto them.

Still crossed arms, she watched Luna for a response. Instead of a glower or a glare that Clarke would've expected from Luna, her eyes had flickered away. She was quite certain that this was the closest to a shoulder slump or an admission of defeat from Luna. ''Fine, Clarke. If it helps to regain your trust in me any.''

Clarke let out a chuckle, and turned towards Luna, slightly amused—but a dark glint had shone in her eyes. ''Haven't trusted you in the first place. How am I supposed to regain that?''

…

Clarke was in their abode when Luna approached her.

She was sat on the couch, as she listened to Lexa and Madi play outside. It was nearly dusk, which meant the temperature went drastically down—enough so that Lexa could go outside without everything getting to burn-y and hot. They were constructing a bear trap, which was supposedly going to be the ''biggest and best ever'' (Madi's words), and ''shall be the safest, yet practical'' (Lexa's words). Clarke wasn't eager to chime in to help, mainly because of some bad experiences regarding the contraption and how she would've preferred to keep her leg in one piece (unlike Lexa who didn't really bother to care about that), thank you very much.

It was then, as she contemplated the trap-making that was going on outside when Luna entered the room. She nodded at her presence and sat on the opposite end of the couch. Mentally, Clarke thought of the days they had left. Five more, until they had to make a decision neither of them wanted to make.

''I know you wish not to talk to me,'' Luna began, as Clarke found something else to focus on in the abode. ''But I only wish to talk.''

Clarke still didn't respond, and so, Luna continued. ''I do not know you, Clarke kom Skaikru,'' Luna said, as she gazed at Clarke solemnly, even as Clarke eyes faced towards the wooden walls in front of her. ''Neither do I know Skaikru. At least, not as well as I should. Please enlighten me.''

''Does it even matter to you?'' Clarke said, voice humourless. ''My past?''

''Would it hurt to share your tale? After all, I have shared mine,'' Luna replied, just as swiftly as Clarke had. Clarke bit her lip.

_Wouldn't hurt. It's just talk._

Clarke breathed in a long, soft breath, and swallowed some saliva. She felt regret at not going outside to work on bear traps simmer now.  _Oh, god_. This would be a long conversation.

Returning Luna's gaze, she took a breath, mustered the willpower to talk about the pasts, and began. ''We—we were in space, on a spaceship that had circled Earth for two centuries. They sent a hundred of us to the ground, to determine if it was survivable or not. When we descended, we had fallen from the  _skai—_ so they called us Skaikru.'' One long breath. Luna's gaze stayed the same; but now, it was tinted with curiosity.

''We had… fights. Misunderstandings,'' and at this Clarke looked away as if she couldn't bear the thought and look at Luna's eyes any longer. ''It-it was hard. B-but we still fought for it. To unite our people under peace.''

''But there were obstacles,'' Luna finished for her, the unsaid words that hung in the air in Clarke's mind. And then, almost bitterly, she said: ''There always are.''

''… yeah.'' Clarke swallowed a breath. ''There was the Maunon. And then there w-was Lexa's paralysis,'' and she closed her eyes, because the image of Lexa's screams still burned in her mind, ''and Pike.'' and she caught a breath, because the crowd's jeers and the slice of blood enraptured her mind and she was back  _there,_ repulsed and disgusted as she watched a sport of blood, ''And there were ALIE's chips.'' and she didn't even want to  _think,_ not anymore, about a world of peace that masqueraded so, that was ripped from their fingers once its true colours showed.

God, she didn't even want to begin to remember. All of that  _conflict_ , between Grounder and Skaikru, that had hurt them and their families, shattered their lives and  _broke_  them, sending people to their deaths and choosing who lived and who died, a burden which she and Lexa had shouldered. Fights, tensions, and  _wars,_  that was shut out by a Death Wave that joined them together in a war for survival.

But now—now, in a world where nothing lived but  _them—_ she realised how  _different_  it could be. How her life didn't need to be dictated by the survival of her people, or a choice that affected thousands anymore. Her choice could just be as simple as spear-fishing or hunting—and not pulling a lever to save the people she cared for at the expense of two hundred lives. Of how her  _love_ didn't need to be forsaken for her people—without some nagging advisor saying it was weakness, without the same words coming from Lexa's mouth, without someone shooting at them because he believed Lexa would make a better leader without  _her,_ and then again without a paralysed Commander because her people thought they were doing what they must, what was the best for themselves.

She could love freely, without judgement nor care in the world, without anyone wrinkling a nose and telling them it was unfit of two leaders whose priority needed to be for their people, and not themselves. She could kiss Lexa without looking over her shoulder for a stray bullet, their worries that were once looking out for their lives became watching out for Madi during those... times.

And what would happen two years later when they opened the bunker? Would their fights resume, would their battle for peace be reignited? And a selfish— _selfish_  part of her didn't want to free  _them_. Didn't want to open a bunker just to start a new war. She wanted to stay  _here_ , with Lexa and Madi, wanted to just live a life of peace with  _them_. Without mixing the chaos those underneath brought with them.

She had forgotten what it had felt like to be a leader. And at that moment, she didn't want to be one anymore. She just wanted to hold on to being  _Clarke_ , for as long as she could. She wanted to live a quiet life with Lexa and Madi, wanted to go about a day without saving the world, with her only choices ones of normal lives.

But when she opened her eyes, she knew her fantasy could be for no longer.

Luna nodded, quietly, as she met Clarke's downcast eyes. ''Peace never comes easy,'' she finally said, as she lifted her head to meet Clarke's glistening eyes. ''And it is only after our trials can we have a chance for it. It may sound wishful, but peace can happen. But it is  _remaining_  peace— that is the hardest virtue in the world.''

Clarke sighed, slightly. ''I wish it wasn't,'' she said. And then, quieter, angrier: ''Why can't anything be simple? J-just unite everyone and-and have it over with. Without strife or war.'' And even as she said it, it was hollow. She knew it could never be. Not when they only served only themselves in their hearts.

''Because we are human,'' Luna replied, echoing what Clarke heard in her head. ''We are  _human_ , and our thoughts only extend to those who  _matter_  to us. Not on a grander scale nor a greater scheme for the whole of us.'' and she sighed, slightly. ''I tried, once, with Floukru,'' and the corner of her lips quirked, ''I'd like to think that we succeeded. But ironically, it is  _I_  who ruined the peace we once had.''

Silence. And then— ''You didn't know better,'' Clarke murmured, and even this she surprised herself, as her eyes met Luna's. ''You can't blame yourself for that.''

''And they call you the Maunon Slayer.'' Luna said bitterly, almost like a jab, but her voice was soft, kind. And finally, she tore her glance away from Clarke, as she shook her head in the slightest. ''I... do not understand how you managed to defeat those… savages, but I thank you, Clarke kom Skaikru. For—for saving us all from them.''

 _For Madi,_ was the words she meant, and it lingered in the air.

Clarke didn't respond, nor did she meet Luna's gaze. But then finally, she cleared her throat and gazed at her square in the eyes. ''I thought you hated war, Luna.''

Luna chuckled, startling Clarke. ''I do. I don't condone the means that you have done in by,'' and with that, her glance tore away from Clarke, as if contemplating the lives taken, ''But you made your choice in survival. We all had.''

Nothing came from both parties. They rested on the couch, as they thought of their own respective lives. There was—there was  _so_   _much_  Clarke regretted, she realised, so many choices and decisions and options that swirled in her head but weren't there then. But there were so much she did that she stood by, no matter what happened.

(And could she judge Luna, for doing the same?)

And with it a sigh, Clarke's gaze roamed around the abode, to listening to Lexa and Madi's chatters outside, to meet Luna's eyes.

Luna's gaze was scrutinising, close. Her eyes curious, as her gaze landed on Clarke's face. And when she finally spoke, it was a slow question, one tinged with a peculiarity: ''You are… intimate, I take it, with Lexa?''

Clarke's surprise showed. Blinking, she returned Luna's slight, questioning gaze, and nodded. ''I am.''

Luna stood from her seat and swept the notebook away from the desk. And when her eyes turned back to meet Clarke's, they were shimmering with  _something_. Sadness? Wistfulness? Happiness?  _Regret_?

''Cherish her,'' she said, voice wistful as she gazed at Clarke. ''She is one of a kind, Clarke kom Skaikru. You deserve her.''

And then she tore her glance away, and left, leaving Clarke to contemplate her words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought about Luna/Clarke's conversation. Did you think Luna was right about humanity or not? Why?
> 
> Thank you! Sorry about the update hiccups, I'm just a bit tired and it's somewhat hard to muster up the editing spirit for a work you aren't sure is being read by many. I'm mulling it over to keep updating or not. That being said -- misty you're awesome.


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